


and your love would be my light

by ladyoflalaland



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, Complete, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Happy Ending, Humor, Loss of Virginity, Love, Love Confessions, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Post-Time Skip, Romance, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 39,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24114334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoflalaland/pseuds/ladyoflalaland
Summary: Ignatz had begun to associate the Goddess with his professor… the forbidden pleasure, blasphemy and dirty schoolboy’s fantasy in equal measure, made his stomach feel hot and his head swim and he knew with all of his soul that she would be his Goddess, now and forever.Ignatz loves Byleth. Byleth just might love him back. Neither wants to confess, but when Ignatz asks Byleth if he can paint her, the excuses for why they should not be together fall away with each brushstroke.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Ignatz Victor
Comments: 45
Kudos: 91





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic spoils the entirety of Verdant Wind. This chapter has spoilers through VW Chapter 13.
> 
> The title comes from me mishearing the lyrics to Horses by Brian Fallon
> 
> I try to keep it ~hot~ throughout, but sex starts in earnest in chapter 8 and on so if you're just looking for that...

It had started innocently enough. Without being fully cognizant of what he was doing, Ignatz had begun to associate the Goddess with his professor. Maybe it was because she was a woman — and admittedly, a gorgeous woman at that — who appeared to embody the maturity, grace, and kindness of the Goddess, or maybe it was the little ways she always seemed to understand him, in a way no one, not Raphael or his other classmates, and certainly not his parents, did. But, for one reason or another, Ignatz’ Goddess began to transform.

It was one thing to have a crush on a professor. Ignatz had thought about her more than a few times in the privacy of his room, touching himself furiously and spilling hard into a handkerchief with the image of his professor pressed close, breasts against his chest, legs wrapped around his waist, fresh in his mind. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe he was the only one who thought about her in such a depraved manner either. He frequently caught classmates — classmates other than Sylvain — letting their gaze linger on the professor a little too long as she turned to walk away, or volunteering a little too eagerly when she asked for help demonstrating a sword technique.

Still, one evening in the church, he was surprised when he imagined the Goddess appearing before him, radiant, ethereal, and _his,_ that the woman he longed to see had vibrant green hair and eyes to match. He was even more surprised that he wanted this fantasy to continue, wanted her to force his head up and kiss him, hot and open-mouthed and not at all in a manner befitting the holy sanctuary where he stood. Ignatz had left the church quickly, praying fervently he did not run into a classmate or, worse, the professor, before he made it back to his room and let the full fantasy play out.

Later in the evening, when he had gotten his fill — for the time being — of imagining in equal turns himself on his knees before his professor/Goddess and her on her knees before him, Ignatz reflected on whether he was okay with this new holy image. In the past, his Goddess had taken on traits of women he had seen: the swaying hips of a tall, proud woman in the marketplace, the breathy voice of a noblewoman employing his parents to procure her more silk tapestries and ornate vases. While the image of his Goddess changed over time, she had never so fully taken on the form of someone he knew. He was a bit unsettled, but the forbidden pleasure, blasphemy and dirty schoolboy’s fantasy in equal measure, made his stomach feel hot and his head swim and he knew with all of his soul that she would be his Goddess, now and forever.

Which was why Ignatz knew, after Edelgard’s siege of the monastery, the professor wasn’t dead. Solon’s imprisonment hadn’t killed her and everyone had seen her disappear that time. This time, when the dust had settled and Claude had looked at his classmates and shaken his head as tears were spilled and wails were heard from students in pain, in mourning, Ignatz didn’t cry. Instead, he wrapped his arms around his nearest sobbing friend — Bernadetta, who had lost not only her professor but also her homeland in one day — and tried to whisper soothing words.

He stopped short at saying the professor would come back. Admitting it out loud might nullify its truth, as odd and illogical as that sentence sounded. He had to believe she wasn’t gone. Otherwise, the colors of the world would eternally fade to grey. And so, he shook his head, and stroking Bernadetta’s back, wished he could find some way to tell her without coming across as even more odd than she probably already thought him: _that flower is still here, even on the battlefield. How could the professor be gone if something so beautiful still exists?_

It only made sense to draw her. After he finished one picture of her, he started on another. As he painted, he told himself that someday she would be back and he wouldn’t have to rely on memories clouded with grief he felt despite his certainty she would return. The first year passed. By the second, he stopped drawing her. Though, in moments alone, he would take out his sketches so he wouldn’t forget her face. By the third, he stopped drawing almost completely except during stolen hours just before dawn or late into the night, a candle a poor substitute for the warm glow of the sun.

War was upon them. The Leicester Alliance was tearing itself apart from within and Edelgard was rumored to be turning men into beasts to fulfill her ambitions of dismantling the church and ruling Fódlan both. Ignatz was busy: fielding correspondences between his former classmates as they all worked in their own way to help the war effort, helping his parents’ and brother’s business stay afloat, and maintaining his training, so that when Claude needed him to return to battle, he could be useful. Not a disappointment. As much as Ignatz hating fighting and being a knight, he hated the shame of being a _bad_ knight even more.

It was only when thoughts like this infiltrated his mind that he thought of the professor. She never made him feel weak or ineffective. If his arrows failed to piece enemy armor in battle, she would simply pull him aside later, during instruction, and show him how to use a magic bow. Or, help him recognize the places on a human — or monster — that would hurt the most. When he trembled at the idea of hurting someone, anyone, even a beast so warped it could not tell friend from foe, she would smile at him, kindly, soothingly, not demeaning, not viewing him as lesser for not wanting to kill, only encouraging him to try his best, whatever his best was.

By the fourth, and then fifth year, thoughts of the professor came only when he thought of the Goddess. The professor and Her were now, completely, as one. Neither corporeal, but both watching him from afar, guiding him, keeping him safe. Which was why, as he and Lorenz picked their way across the mountain passes that led to Garreg Mach Monastery through the grey pre-dawn hours, Ignatz felt a cold shock when he saw her blade dancing in the fading moonlight in the ruins of an old village.

Tearing his eyes from her to raise his bow at the approaching bandits felt like a monumental undertaking. Helping his old friends dispatch the bandits, even after a night of hiking, was nothing compared to the willpower it took not to stare at the professor as she moved swiftly, seeming to burn brighter in tandem with the rising sun. When the battle was finally won and Raphael was slapping him on the back with a booming “well done,” he did stare at her, openly and unashamed, as first Claude grasped her hand, then Hilda pulled her into a tight hug, and, one by one, his classmates (even Lorenz, who Ignatz had assumed would think hugging a commoner beneath him) wrapped her in a warm embrace, or picked her up and spun her around, as Raphael did in his excitement.

When the professor finally approached Ignatz, time seemed to slow to half its usual speed. He met her eyes as she made her way over to him, his friends behind her greeting each other with unbridled joy. Ignatz forced himself to breathe as the professor closed the gap between them. Without thinking about it, Ignatz pulled her closer than his classmates had, holding her against him. He felt a thrill when he realized he was taller than her now and an even sharper jolt when she nuzzled into his neck.

Instinctively, Ignatz buried his face in her hair and slid his hands down her back, feeling how solid and real and present she was, how earthy and sweaty and not at all like a goddess but oh-so-lovely she smelled, feeling the rise and fall of her very human chest against his, tracing her spine lower and lower until, oh — Ignatz jumped back with a start. He hadn’t meant… He should have never…! She was real and not his fantasy and she was staring at Ignatz as he dropped his arms and stepped away from her, eyes wide and unreadable. Ignatz could tell she was masking her discomfort at how long and tight he had held her for when everyone else had made do with a chaste embrace. Over the professor’s shoulder, he met Claude’s sharp and knowing gaze. Ignatz turned away, unable to hide the hot shame that colored his face, ears, and neck.

He could hear the professor swallow, trying to find a way to make peace, to salvage the awkward situation he had put them both in.

“I am so glad to see you,” the professor whispered, barely audible. “You’ve… grown, so much.” While Ignatz appreciated the effort on her part, he knew the damage was done.

“Shall we head to the monastery?” Ignatz tried to keep his voice flat.

The professor smiled at him, not unkindly, and they made their way to the rest of the former Golden Deer. Ignatz surveyed the group, thanking not just the Goddess of Fódlan, but all the Gods and Goddesses of all the continents that no one but Claude seemed to have noticed the way he had allowed his fingers to move across the professor’s back as if they belonged there and pressed his cheek to her hair. Claude didn’t seem to be in the mood to reprimand him: the smile plastered on Claude’s face couldn’t have been knocked away if Ignatz had hit him with an axe. Although Ignatz took little comfort in knowing Claude had nothing to say at the moment. He knew how Claude worked, knew he had filed the scene between Ignatz and the professor away for a later time.

It was hard for Ignatz to stay upset. His heart soared during the walk back to the monastery and the small soiree that followed in the old dining hall, now nearly abandoned. Everyone was exhausted, but too exhilarated to sleep. They all kept trying to speak at once, filling the professor in with news of the war, gossip, and rumors they had heard about the whereabouts of old classmates who had joined Golden Deer simply for the professor. Of course, everyone mostly wanted to regale her with tales of their own bravery and growth over the last five years.

It was approaching midday with the professor finally stood. Her eyes had been drooping more and more in the hours since their reunion at dawn. She left with a promise to invite everyone to one-on-one teas to hear more and a nod at Claude that Ignatz hoped meant they would talk privately later, and not that they were planning a romantic tryst. While he felt certain he had blown any (admittingly small) chance of having the professor reciprocate his feelings by his behavior after the battle, he didn’t think his heart could take seeing her with someone else. He wanted her to be happy, but he hoped he would be long gone, painting the wide skies of Almyra, before she gave herself to anyone else.

Despite the heavy feeling of lost love on his mind, Ignatz felt content. She was back. They were all back! He and Raphael laughed as they walked to their old dorms, his mouth hurting from smiling, and his sides hurting from laughing at the ridiculous amount of mirth Raphael took from wishing him “goodnight” at high noon and his heart fluttered lightly against his chest, happy and full.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Byleth's fantasy in this chapter has student/teacher undertones. I don't tag it, because that theme doesn't really continue into later chapters (I'll add a tag if this changes). If it bothers you, you can skip the last three paragraphs without missing any plot.

Byleth’s pulse was rapid. She had hoped sleep would make the odd patter stop, but when she awoke its quickstep dance remained. She had felt like this a few times in the last year — well, the last six years, she supposed — but her heart had never hurt like this before coming to Garreg Mach. She hadn’t thought about her heart at all before coming to Garreg Mach. Those days had been simpler: Dad and Byleth, waking, killing, eating, and sleeping. The food had been blander, the sleep plagued with dreams of the girl — Sothis — and battles, but at least her heart had been calm.

Although, Byleth couldn’t say she longed for those days. While she certainly wished Jeralt was still around, life at the monastery was better than her life as a mercenary. And, the last time her heart had beaten like this, she had passed out, only to awaken to a world that was a little brighter, smiles that didn’t seem to let up around her students, and a father she wanted to hug instead of stoically ignore. She had felt like herself, but a little more vibrant.

The pounding in her heart now brought with it a new sensation: a fire, hot and hard in her stomach, and below it, an oh-so-pleasant twinge between her legs. Byleth wanted to play ignorant, but she knew what this meant. She knew she had been expected to feel it around ten years ago, when Jeralt had sat her down next to her after she confessed the blood on her sheets was not from a wound that needed tending. Her father had then taken a long swig from his flask and handed her some clean rags.

“Tie one of these around your undergarments. Change it to a fresh cloth every few hours or so. Join me downstairs when you’re done.” Before abruptly standing up and leaving the room.

With some degree of difficulty, especially considering the ache in her gut, young Byleth had figured out how to position one of the soft rags so it would stay in place, and hurried downstairs to find her father. She found Jeralt sitting at a table in the corner of the inn they were staying at drinking from his flask as if it were his lifeline.

When she approached he said, “Look, kid, you’re going to start finding boys and girls more interesting now. I only have two pieces of advice for you: don’t have sex with anyone with an off-putting smell, and, if you do have sex with a boy, make sure he —” Jeralt paused and took a really deep swig from his flask, “make sure he doesn’t, uh, finish inside of you until you’re ready for kids. Which should not be sooner than, I don’t know, thirty years from now? You’re more than enough of a kid for me to handle. Can’t have two of you running around.” Jeralt left it at that.

Byleth was fine with her father’s brief speech on womanhood. Growing up on the road and around mercenaries, she had seen and heard a lot more than most her age and mostly felt apathetic about the whole sex thing. Both boys and girls seemed about the same to her, even after the arrival of her menses: other people were either partners to assist on the battlefield, enemies to slay, or innocents to protect. This was how it remained for many years.

Even during her first few months at Garreg Mach, as Byleth scolded Lorenz and Sylvain for their pursuits, saw her students flirt shyly with each other, danced with everyone at the ball, and met Dorothea in the Goddess Tower, where the other woman had reacted with surprise that Byleth, despite having spent nearly nine months at Garreg Mach, had yet to find someone she fancied, Byleth still felt no interested in sex. In their mercenary days, Byleth and Jeralt had come across a few similar people. These folks never wanted to take a partner, or did take a partner, but shared their bed only to sleep. Byleth assumed that was how she was too: entirely uninterested in sex or romance, and definitely uninterested in love.

Now, this building desire in her chest, her stomach, her sex, made her realize that this part of her had simply been sleeping. That was fine too. Byleth didn’t mind either way, as long as this heat disappeared when she needed to focus on the battlefield. What wasn’t fine was that she was pretty sure it was Ignatz’ embrace that had caused this. Sweet, innocent Ignatz, who had, in mere minutes to her, sprouted from an awkward boy into a — okay, still awkward but — handsome, broad-shouldered man.

If it had been almost anyone else causing this fire within her — Claude, Ferdinand, maybe even Hilda, because while she didn’t think Hilda liked girls, she could probably be persuaded to have a little fun for an hour — she would have simply asked them to fuck her and get it over with. Get all the longing and the pangs out so she could focus on the war. It didn’t seem fair to do that to Ignatz. Maybe if these feelings persisted after the war and they both made it out alive, she would take her mother’s ring out and ask him to be hers forever. But, she couldn’t make promises like that now. She didn’t know if there would be a tomorrow, much less a forever. She didn’t know if these feelings would persist anyway. Maybe she was just mixed up. Maybe in an hour Lorenz would embrace her and she’d want him… or, okay, maybe not Lorenz, but perhaps Felix would rejoin them and she would fall for him instead. She couldn’t risk hurting Ignatz for a pounding heart and feelings she could only guess at.

Still, the fire inside of her demanded immediate attention. Byleth let one hand wander slowly down her chest, grazing her breasts and moving inward to brush one nipple, then the other. Despite having no interested in sex, she had done this many times before to relax, her mind blank as she explored her body. This time, as her hand trailed from her now hard nipples, down her stomach, lifting her hand only to remove her underwear, kicking them off once they reached her ankles and letting them fall somewhere among her sheets, she allowed her mind to drift. She didn’t expressly try to think about Ignatz, but she didn’t stop herself from imagining him either.

Byleth’s index finger lazily circled her clit. She shuddered as she pictured herself teaching Ignatz how to do this to her. She felt a jolt when she imagined him glancing up from between her legs to meet her gaze, brown eyes nervous, but eager and dark with lust behind his glasses. _Like this, Professor?_ Her off hand clinched hard at her breast. _Oh yes, yes, just like that. Please, please try your mouth now._ He’d let out a shaky breath, clearly full of nerves, but his hips grinding uselessly against her bed would tell another story: he wanted this, wanted so badly to run his tongue along her wet slit — Byleth dragged her finger down, and then up again, imagining the motion — wanted to lick her clit. _You are doing so well._ She would say, and he would lift his head to beam up at her, adoringly, before lowering his face back down.

She touched herself more furiously now, imaging Ignatz, licking and sucking at her so, so enthusiastically as she twined her fingers into his olive hair, pulling hard, but not hard enough to hurt. No, she didn’t want to hurt him, he was her good boy, her star pupil. Byleth squirmed in her bed now, feeling her orgasm building. Should she switch to imagining him inside of her? No, Byleth liked this for now, liked picturing Ignatz between her legs, moaning and grateful for the opportunity to taste her. _Are you happy to pleasure your professor?_ She’d ask, failing entirely at keeping her voice level. _Yes_ , he would say, breathy and shaking, switching to his hands to finish her, _yes, please, please teach me more. I so badly want to please you. I so badly want to make you come._ His hand moving faster and faster until— Byleth came, breathing hard as she felt the aftershocks of her orgasm.

 _Well,_ she though, more than a little unsettled, _that was a new experience_. As her body cooled down and her mind cleared again, Byleth rolled over and buried her face in her pillow, feeling absolutely certain this wasn’t a strange flight of fancy, curable by a passing hug from another: she wanted Ignatz. She wanted possibly the sweetest and most innocent of her students and she wanted him during a time of war, when she had to be most at the top of her game as a fighter, tactician, general, and mentor.

There was no way she could act on her feelings now: she would have to wait until the war was over, and that was assuming they both survived and he desired her back. She bit her lip at this last thought. Perhaps he would be more interested in one of his classmates? Byleth remembered Ignatz playing at flirting with Marianne, Leonie, and the others five years ago. They were all so grown up now. Any flirting from here on would not be play. At this, Byleth felt jealousy, raw and very undesired, bloom in her chest. On top of the unbidden anger, her pulse continued to pound and an overall feeling of malaise had settled over her. Shit. As if waking up after a five year sleep to find half your former students were at war with the other half wasn’t complicated enough. Shit.


	3. Chapter 3

Ignatz put one hand to his forehead and lowered his eyes, unable to look at Raphael. “O-oh my goodness. You _didn’t.”_

Raphael’s countenance quickly changed from one of joy to one of concern. “I thought you’d be excited to be the first one to have tea with the professor. Every time she walks in the room, you look like you have something to say to her.”

Ignatz had to admit that was true. The last few weeks had been exciting and agonizing at the same time. Their old professor had been very busy: discussing their next steps with Claude, training, and writing to old allies and students from other regions of Fódlan to summon them back to Garreg Mach. Each day, soldiers, merchants, and old friends rode through the monastery’s gate, much to everyone’s delight. But, these tasks occupied the professor’s every waking moment. The only time Ignatz saw her was at the big war meetings (he guessed he was a general now?) and occasionally when eating, although she did not have time to talk and laugh with them like she used to.

Ignatz had tried to squash his feelings for her, but each time she walked in the room, he knew he stared. The few times she met his gaze, he blushed and looked away. Last night, she announced she had finally carved out some free time and wanted to catch up with everyone, one on one. She said she’d leave a calendar outside of her room and everyone could write in an afternoon to take tea with her. Raphael had seen the calendar first thing in the morning, as he woke up earlier than everyone else to train (before getting breakfast, then going back to training, and then grabbing more breakfast).

And Raphael, being the amazing friend he was, put Ignatz down for tea with the professor _today_ making him the first student to meet with her. Ignatz knew he should thank his friend, but instead, he felt so, so embarrassed.

“Did I do something wrong?” Raphael was all concern now.

“No, no, it’s just— now everyone will think I’m really eager to see her!” Ignatz cried.

At this, Raphael laughed, then quickly stopped himself. “Sorry, buddy, but you ARE really eager to see her! We all are! That’s why I put myself down for tomorrow.”

“But why did you have me go _first?_ ”

Raphael answered quickly: clearly he had put a lot of thought (or rather, whatever constituted a lot of thought for Raphael) into this. “I figured our stories would be pretty similar, since we spent most of the last five years together. You’re better at getting the details straight and rememberin’ the facts, so I thought you’d tell the professor our adventures first, then tomorrow, I can tell her the real exciting parts!”

Ignatz lifted his head to meet Raphael’s gaze. Raphael was just trying to be a good friend. There was no use being mad at him for something he couldn’t have known. “I… I see. That makes sense.”

“Not that your stories are boring! But, after the professor hears your version of them, all full of facts, I bet she’ll be dying to hear my version! I’ll act out all the fights for her, so she doesn’t feel like she missed anything!”

Ignatz smiled. “I’m sure she will love that.”

“Anyway, off to train,” Raphael said cheerily. “Have fun with the professor and let me know how it goes!”

“Enjoy training!” Ignatz called after Raphael as the larger man turned to leave. He kept his voice cheerful, although privately he felt terrified. Now he was alone with nothing to do but speculate on all the ways he could mess up tea with the professor.

“Hey, Ignatz.”

“Oh, hey, Claude.” Maybe wishing for something to take his mind off the professor had been a mistake.

“We haven’t gotten a chance to chat since reuniting,” Claude said, studying Ignatz. “How are you holding up? I know war isn’t really your thing.”

Ignatz wondered if anyone existed for whom war would be a ‘thing,’ but he only shrugged at Claude. “Fine. It’s been… busy. Loud. With all the people returning to the monastery. But, I enjoy the liveliness. Seeing our old friends again, eating and laughing together like we did as students is something to treasure, especially in times of war.”

Claude laced his hands behind his head and continued to scrutinize Ignatz. “I’m glad to hear life isn’t all bad for you… actually—” Claude lowered his voice and leaned in a little closer. Ignatz got the impression the conversation was about to take an unpleasant turn. “It seems like you have something really enjoyable coming up this afternoon – tea with Teach?” Claude winked and grinned suggestively.

“Hm, Raphael put me down for this afternoon.” Ignatz doubted he was fooling Claude, but he tried to keep his voice level and face blank all the same. “I am looking forward to it, although I doubt we’ll have much to talk about. She’s been asleep and I can’t say helping my parents has been very exciting.”

Ignatz had assumed Claude’s demeanor could not get more suggestive. He assumed wrong. “I’m sure you’ll find plenty to talk about. I remember when we were students, you used to lend her books and show her drawings you made. You two spent a lot of time talking back then.”

Ignatz reddened. “Y-yes, but the professor made sure to spend time with all of us in those days. Ashe, Ingrid, and Linhardt lent her books as well. I think she used to sing with Marianne and Mercedes. That… that was how it was. I doubt it will be like that now.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Claude said, now more flippant than suggestive. “Listen, Ignatz, I’ll stop pestering you soon, but I have to know something. Five years ago, I asked you who you thought was more lovely: Teach or the Goddess. You didn’t want to answer me then, but I get the feeling you know your answer now.”

It had been a naïve fantasy to assume Claude wouldn’t have figured out the truth. Ignatz felt more indignant than embarrassed. “ _Why_ do you like teasing me about this so much? She is my Goddess, alright?” Ignatz pouted for a second, then, nervously, looked up at Claude. “Please don’t tell her?”

Claude smiled. “I suspected as much. Look, Ignatz, if you love Teach, why don’t you tell her?”

“I will… someday,” Ignatz said nervously. “I don’t want to get rejected and then have to fight on a battlefield with the person who turned me down.”

Claude looked confused. “Why are you so sure she’ll turn you down? You’re a good guy, Ignatz. You and Teach have been close since she arrived at the monastery. The other women giggle just as much at the idea of you painting them as Sylvain taking them out to dinner. They actually might prefer spending time with you than with Sylvain, because you’re genuine.”

“Thanks, Claude,” Ignatz was unable to keep the defeat out of his voice, “but I know she’s not interested. I think I’ll wait until after the war, then talk to her. If the Empire hasn’t destroyed Fódlan by then. That way, I can leave forever when she turns me down.” Ignatz tried to make his tone upbeat. “In the meantime, I should go find some of those other women who want me to paint them.”

“That’s… sort of the spirit?” Claude said, with a laugh. “Listen, though, I really think you are missing out by not talking to Teach now. But, as long as you are doing what you want.”

“Thanks, Claude,” Ignatz repeated.

“Go get ready for your tea. Even if no romantic confessions happen, this could be your first step in wooing the Goddess.”

“ _Please_ don’t call her that.”

Claude started to walk away, smirking. “Whatever you say! Just remember. Breathe. And—” here, Claude turned back and winked, “have fun.”

Ignatz lifted his glasses to press his hands to his eyes. This day was not off to a good start.

* * *

Tea was off to a great start. The professor had brewed a lovely pot of lavender tea. The only thing that seemed off was Byleth herself: she struck Ignatz as a bit tired and her eyes seemed a little unfocused. If he hadn’t seen her wielding the Sword of the Creator on the battlefield only a few days before, Ignatz might have thought she was sick. He assumed she was simply overwhelmed from the sheer amount of work the war caused her.

Despite the professor seeming slightly off, Claude had been correct: Ignatz and Byleth found plenty to discuss. The professor was trying to remember a book she had started before she had fallen asleep for five years so she could finish it now. They couldn’t remember if he had recommended it or Ashe, so Byleth was describing the plot.

“That sounds more like an Ashe story,” Ignatz said when she was done. Oh. Ashe. That was a bit sad. Everyone had heard about Ashe joining the Empire. The look in Byleth’s eyes when she was told the news had been heartbreaking. They both lowered their gaze for a moment, Ignatz wishing he hadn’t brought up something so upsetting. 

It was Byleth who broke the ice. “Have you been drawing recently?”

“Oh, yes!” Ignatz said happily. “In fact, I’ve been drawing—” oh no. Her. He’d been drawing her. “Um, our friends.” That wasn’t a lie: Ignatz liked to draw all of them. It was just that drawing the professor was his favorite.

Byleth smiled, then, surprisingly, reddened and directed her gaze at the gazebo behind him. “Do you ever draw me?”

It was Ignatz’ turn to blush. “Yes, uh, sometimes.”

“Could I see the pictures?” Byleth’s voice was odd now, breathy, but not in a seductive way. Her eyes, which had been unfocused the entire conversation, glazed over. Ignatz’ discomfort was replaced with concern.

“Professor, are you okay?”

The professor started to nod, but Ignatz saw her eyes roll back in her head and sprung up from his chair, catching Byleth before she hit the ground. He was holding her at an angle, her upper body sideways in his arms, her legs on the ground. Thankfully, Byleth was lighter than she seemed. Ignatz was able to awkwardly hoist her up. Now, it was time to pray again. First, that the professor was okay and, second, that no one saw him carry her back to her room. The number of things Ignatz did not want to explain to his classmates was growing rapidly. 

As he made his way, the professor in his arms, to the strip of grass that separated the commoner dorms from the gardens, Ignatz heard a high-pitched shriek. It seemed the real Goddess was out to get him.

“Hey, Bernie, she’s okay… I think. She’s breathing. I’m just trying to get her to her room. Can you help me get the door?” Ignatz addressed the currently very upset woman off to one side of him.

Bernadetta did not make a move for the professor’s door. She just stared at the slack professor in Ignatz’ arms, openmouthed.

“Bernie. She’s fine. Get the door.” Byleth had been easy to carry for a while and Ignatz prided himself on being much stronger than he looked, but his arms were beginning to shake a little.

Bernadetta moved suddenly, running for the professor’s door and opening it. Ignatz carried Byleth inside and gentle laid her down on her bed. Bernadetta followed behind nervously. When Ignatz stepped away, she jumped into bed with Byleth, snuggling into her side.

“Bernie? I think we should give the professor space right now.”

But, Byleth’s eyes fluttered open and she wrapped one arm around Bernadetta. “She can stay,” their professor muttered sleepily.

“You’re awake!” Ignatz smiled. “You were out for a while. I should get Manuela.”

Byleth looked up at him, her eyelids still heavy. “This has happened to me before. I think it’s fine.”

* * *

It wasn’t just fine. It was wonderful. Byleth felt wonderful. The pounding in her heart had finally stopped. She still felt tired and a little faint, but she also felt like the world was even brighter now. And Ignatz. He had carried her. Was fretting over her. She loved his earnestness. His kindness. Whoever said men had to be rude to be sexy had gotten it all backwards. She wanted nothing more than to stare into his brown eyes. She felt like a child, but maybe she was owed this after being so grownup for so long.

* * *

“Still, I think I should fetch Manuela. I’ll clean up the tea after that.”

Bernadetta finally spoke up. “I’ll keep the professor company.”

Byleth smiled. “Thanks, Bernadetta. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Professor!” Bernadetta snuggled even closer into Byleth’s side. Ignatz felt a bit jealous. He wanted to join… but, this was not the time to think about that.

“Okay, Manuela?” Ignatz said, quickly making his way to the door before any other distracting images could take hold.

Byleth met Ignatz' eyes. “Thank you for your help.”

“For you, anything,” Ignatz said with a boldness he assumed came from having just carried the professor across campus. He took off for Manuela’s office before he could say anything else he would regret.

Thankfully, Manuela was in her office and she left for Byleth’s room quickly once Ignatz had gotten his story out. He then made his way back to their sadly discarded tea party and tidied up. When he returned with the tea set, Manuela was leaving Byleth’s room, Bernadetta creeping out behind her.

“Nothing is wrong with her,” Manuela said as she passed Ignatz. “She told me you carried her.” Here, Manuela sighed and mumbled darkly, “Maybe I should swoon in front of men more often.”

Ignatz had no idea how to respond, so he changed the subject. “Is it okay if I go in there to drop off her tea set?”

Manuela waved her hand as Bernadetta took off quickly for her room, clearly not willing to talk to Ignatz or anyone else. “Absolutely. I advised her to rest a little longer, in case she faints again. But considering she seems to go years between swooning, I think she’ll be fine.”

Ignatz nodded at Manuela and made his way back into the professor’s room.

She was sitting up in bed, quietly working on something in her notebook. Ignatz sat down her tea set.

“Aren’t you supposed to be resting?”

The professor, with her characteristic silence, flipped her notebook around to show pages of battle plans and strategies for the war.

Ignatz sighed, “I guess war doesn’t rest, right?” The professor nodded. “Still though, please take it easy.”

She smiled at him and motioned to the foot of her bed, offering for him to sit. Ignatz obliged and turned to look at the professor. As soon as he studied her face, however, he wished he had left the second the tea set had been placed down. Byleth’s lips were parted, her face was flushed and her eyelids still heavy. She was still breathing a little harder than usual, causing her already hard-to-miss chest to rise and fall in an enticing manner. While she was clearly just recovering from whatever had caused her faint, Ignatz couldn’t help but notice she looked a bit like a maiden might, shortly before being… ravished, in the stories they used to pass around as students, praying no one was foolish enough to read where Seteth might catch them and take away the much-loved books.

There had been one story where a knight had carried a swooning maiden. That was a bit like what had happened today, only Ignatz wasn’t sure if the professor could be called a maiden and he had spent his entire life not wanting to be a knight. Still, after the knight had laid the beautiful woman down and her eyelids had fluttered open, she had thanked him for his services by allowing him to climb on top of her and tear her clothes off. Ignatz thought the professor might be mad if he climbed on top of her and guessed she would be furious if he ripped her clothes. But, the notion of being on top of her, the professor gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes, her body yielding to his as he pushed inside of her… well Ignatz wished he knew how the professor felt about _that_ idea.

Or, maybe she would prefer it if she were in charge. Ignatz was probably closer to being the blushing maiden of the pair, after all. Maybe the professor would want to tear his shirt open, to pull down his pants roughly, to hold him down as she rode him until he spent himself inside of her. Except she probably didn’t want that either. Ignatz had no idea what the professor wanted when she motioned for him to sit down on her bed.

He coughed and crossed one leg over the other, hoping the professor did not notice his growing erection. Did she know how she looked? Disheveled and vulnerable, her hair falling across her face, her breasts straining at the already rather lowcut shirt she wore? Ignatz had to say something, anything, because this situation was far too intimate. The fact that she was allowing herself to appear so vulnerable while alone with him, sitting at the foot of her bed probably meant she didn’t — couldn’t — view Ignatz as a potential… a potential… partner, right?

* * *

Byleth loved him. That was the fact that rang over and over in her mind after she had recovered from her swoon. She loved how he appreciated every sunset and rain puddle. How he had faith in a world where, despite the Goddess being literally part of her, Byleth found it hard to find a reason to believe in anything. She delighted in his awkwardness and absentmindedness, because Byleth knew others viewed her as a bit odd as well. She liked the idea of being with someone who knew how that felt, to be viewed as a little weird.

Although she would have done almost anything to get those five years she missed back, she was glad it made it easier to separate the boy she had taught from the man who was so sweet to her now. Could she live with herself if she kissed him right here, potentially causing havoc in their already too-close little group? Could she live with herself if she let him leave and he died, or she died, words unsaid? Could she live with being turned down? Could she live with him kissing her back, these blossoming feelings of love she should have had time to explore, practice, and perfect as a teenager still so new, so fresh, so unfamiliar? She felt so, so very unlike herself, right at the moment she had to be the most steadfast for the sake of the torn nation she had also grown to love.

* * *

The silence had stretched on far too long. The professor was clearly still unwell.

“Did you want something else of me, Professor?”

Byleth’s eyes suddenly opened wider, as if she was coming out of a daze. That was probably part of her illness. She shook her head.

Ignatz left, quickly. The evening air felt so cool against his hot skin. That had been so strange! Had she wanted to say something? Was she still recovering, not yet in her right mind? Ignatz felt miserable: he knew he would stress about the professor’s motives for weeks, if not months. She had seemed a bit like she wanted to continue their earlier conversation, but had taken no steps to do so. She had just stared at him. Granted, sometimes the professor just stared at people without saying anything. She was a little odd like that. And sometimes Ignatz started saying things to people, became spooked, and ran away. He was odd like that too. Maybe this was how any conversation between the two of them was going to play out.

Still, she had looked so beautiful. She always looked beautiful, but seeing her in her bed like that, sweating and rouged and… heaving. It had been too much. Ignatz felt too much for her. He made it back to his room quickly and paced the floor, feeling like a tightly wound spring. What should he do? Masturbating seemed like the easy answer, but it didn’t account for all the feelings he was having.

And then the answer seemed obvious. Paint. Get everything out on paper: all the lust and the love and the admiration and the confusion. The professor had wanted to see his work, right? He would paint his feelings for her and give her the picture. Actually, he wouldn’t worry about giving her the picture or not. He just needed to get his feelings out and he couldn’t imagine a more pure and accurate form to do so than with art.

He picked up his brush and began: the Goddess emerged naturally.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've really enjoyed talking to people in the comments! The Ignatz fandom is apparently like Ignatz himself: small but devoted. I made a fandom twitter, same username as here (@ladyoflalaland) if you want to chat more.

The Goddess that emerged on the parchment looked a little different than the one in the painting for the professor.

“Why, Ignatz, that is beautiful.” This woman had a higher voice than the professor, her body a little softer. “Can I keep it?”

“Of course, Mercedes. Thank you for modeling for me.”

“It was my pleasure. Keep up the good work and in no time I am sure you’ll be the most famous painter in all of Fódlan!” Mercedes said cheerily, patting Ignatz’ cheek. Ignatz beamed at the touch. “Okay, I need to finish some mending now. This was a nice break!” Mercedes smiled, gathered the painting, and left the church.

Ignatz watched her go without saying anything. Another woman with one of his paintings. Another woman who, despite being beautiful and kind and a good friend, he had been unable to ask out on a date. Another woman who had failed to keep the professor from his mind for more than a day or two.

It had been three months since Ignatz had finished his painting for the professor and in that time, he had been so paralyzed by fear he had been unable to give it to her. It wasn’t that the painting itself was anything salacious: it was a pretty picture, with a goddess in the background who maybe, vaguely, resembled her. No, the issue was that Ignatz had poured so much of his feelings for her into it that he had begun to consider giving the painting to the professor as equivalent to confessing his love. For someone for whom choosing a tea at the marketplace was a cause for anxiety, bearing his heart to the woman he had been enamored by for so many years sent his brain and body into chaos.

Not to mention there was still a war going on. Week after week, he killed former friend and giant monster alike. It was hard to say who the worse enemy was: a dog of war with a snarling, golden mask that haunted Ignatz’ nightmares or a former classmate wearing a mask of hatred that tormented his waking hours. Ignatz knew the hatred was a mask, because he painted his face in the same way on the battlefield: any tears had to be shed in private.

Between the nightmares, Ignatz spent his nights longing for any comfort. Making love to the professor would be ideal, but considering how busy she was and how afraid Ignatz was of confessing his love to her, it seemed unlikely Byleth would ever be able to provide the comfort he needed. So, he started talking — and, if he were honest with himself, flirting — more with his other friends. His intent wasn’t always romantic, but sometimes, while painting a former classmate, they would smile at him in a way that made his heart pound and he would wonder if the professor was simply one of many goddesses in the world.

These feelings would last for a day or two and then Byleth would rush to his side to protect him on the battlefield, or praise him during training, and Ignatz’ heart would pound even harder and it would feel like, despite the death and despair around them, the world was painted in sparkly gold. His heart was telling him the unfortunate truth that she was the only one for him. Those little crushes were just that: little crushes. As much as he knew he couldn’t confess to her, what he felt for Byleth was everlasting.

Still, it was fun to flirt with other people. Ignatz wasn’t alone in feeling this way: all over Garreg Mach, he saw friends giggling a little too hard while talking or clasping hands a little too eagerly. Which was why, as Ignatz made his way back to his room after dinner, taking a winding path that led him by the classrooms to enjoy the spring evening, he wanted to give Claude and Hilda a wide berth. The pair were whispering by a column and Ignatz was scared to even glance in their direction. He must have guessed their intentions wrong, however, because when Hilda spotted Ignatz she waved him over.

“Why were you avoiding looking at us?” Hilda chastised. 

“I wasn’t trying to avoid you.” Ignatz shook his head apologetically. “I just thought you two might be… uh… that you might want some privacy.”

Claude chuckled. “You thought we were hooking up?”

“Um, ew.” Hilda made a face. “No offense, Claude.”

“None taken. Although perhaps I should be the one disgusted here. Maybe the idea of us fucking fills me with a horrible sense of dread.” Claude bantered back.

Hilda looked indignant. Ignatz glanced down at the ground, nervously. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Claude interrupted, waving his hand. “It’s fine. I think this is how Hilda and I flirt.” He winked at the Hilda, who stuck out her tongue in reply. 

“Speaking of which,” Hilda began, “isn’t it so weird how everyone is super horny all of a sudden? I’ve seen Lorenz propose to about three people in the last week! Leonie keeps insisting everyone travel around the world with her. At this rate, we’re all going to end up in one big relationship!”

“You’re one to talk!” Claude said with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure you’re the worst offender of us all, Hilda.”

“Am not!”

Claude held out one gloved hand and extended a finger at a time. “You asked Lorenz to marry you: you told poor Raphael to ‘hold you close to his heart’: Marianne is still blushing from when you called her ‘cute’: and I can’t even walk in a room without you sizing me up with your eyes.” Hilda scoffed at Claude, but he continued, nodding his head towards Ignatz. “You even got our resident good church boy to paint you.”

“Whatever. Ignatz paints all the girls,” Hilda said with a wink at Ignatz. “Well, all the cute ones at least.”

Ignatz felt he could die of shame. He turned his back to Claude and Hilda, hoping to flee before things got worse and nearly ran into Byleth, who seemed to have appeared out of the air. There was a look on her face that he couldn’t quite read, but she didn’t look happy. Ignatz immediately turned back around, deciding Hilda and Claude might be easier to face at the moment.

“Professor!” Hilda gasped. “How long have you been standing there?” She shot Claude a Look, which Claude returned with one of his own. Ignatz mostly felt confused: Claude, Hilda, and the professor’s expressions didn’t make sense given the situation. The professor appeared almost angry and Claude and Hilda seemed to be deciding something amongst themselves.

The usually quiet Byleth spoke first. There was an air of humor in her voice, but it was tinged with something Ignatz couldn’t place. “Ignatz does _what_ with all the cute girls?”

“Nothing!” Hilda said, her voice way too nervous. Claude shot her another Look and their silent conversation continued for a second before Ignatz decided to be honest.

“I’ve been painting them. I mean, not just the cute — uh, I mean, not just girls — women. Men too. Raphael! I painted Raphael. I guess that was for a girl — woman! — though: his sister, Maya.”

“I see.” Byleth’s expression didn’t change.

Oops, he might have said “Maya” a little too dreamily. She had been one of his best childhood friends; surely the professor would understand? Why should the professor care, anyway? Then it hit him: the war! The professor was certainly furious at the way her students were behaving like a bunch of animals while around them people were dying. When he thought about it that way, Ignatz felt terrible about all the time he had wasted daydreaming about women when he could have been training or helping the war effort in some other way.

“Ooh, shoot. I love this conversation, but I have somewhere to be.” Hilda was laying it on a little thick with the tone, Ignatz thought. “Claude, don’t you have somewhere else to be as well?” Claude gave her one last meaningful Look. “I guess not! Well, see you all later.” Silent conversation concluded, Hilda skipped off.

Thankfully, Claude took pity on Ignatz and changed the subject. “Hey, Teach, I wanted to chat with you about something.” Byleth nodded, her intense gaze unchanged. “Not here, though, it’s private.” Byleth’s expression finally switched to one of concern and she nodded at Claude, who offered her his arm. Instead of taking it, Byleth snaked one arm around Claude’s shoulders.

To Ignatz’ horror, Claude leaned in closer to the professor, his voice low and husky. “My shoulder’s a little high for you, Teach.” He took her arm in his, wrapping it around his waist. “Isn’t that better?”

Byleth nodded and Ignatz did not miss the blush that colored both Claude and Byleth’s cheeks. Claude waved goodbye to Ignatz with his off-hand (the professor, Ignatz noted, did not) and they both turned to leave, Byleth’s hand around Claude’s waist, his arm around her shoulders, heads leaned in close, whispering about something.

Ignatz felt as if a thousand spears had pierced his heart as once. Betrayed! And by Claude, the one person who knew about his crush. Well, it was obvious Claude was a philanderer: flirting with Hilda and then curling his arm around the professor with such ease. Ignatz had been a little jealous of Byleth and Claude’s close relationship for a while and this caused the jealousy to move front and center in his mind. Ignatz paced the quad angrily, too tense to go to his room. If anyone were to describe Ignatz, the word “violent” would perhaps be last on their list. But, at the moment, he sort of wanted to fight Claude.

After five paces of the length of the grass outside the classrooms, Claude returned. Before Ignatz could decide whether to punch him or run away, Claude pulled him into an empty room.

“You’re going to talk to her now, right?”

“Pardon?” This conversation was not going the way Ignatz had spent the last few minutes imagining it would go.

Claude stared at Ignatz. “Come on, you’re an observant man. You really couldn’t tell?”

“I could tell you were flirting with the professor!” Ignatz said, indignant. “I thought we were friends!”

“Hey, hey—” Claude held up his hands, “we are friends.”

“Friends don’t wrap their arms around the person they know their friend loves.” Ignatz’ voice trembled.

“Are you jealous?” Claude laughed and the desire to punch him in the face had never been stronger. Ignatz held off, instead crossing his arms over his chest, frowning.

“You betrayed my trust.”

“Ignatz, I was helping you.”

“ _That_ was your idea of helping?”

Claude stopped laughing and looked concerned. “How can you see every flower as we march to a battle, but not notice Teach was seething with jealousy at the mere idea that you might be thinking about other women?”

Ignatz shook his head. “That’s not… that’s not possible. That doesn’t make sense.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, she’s a confident, mature woman. It doesn’t seem like her to be jealous. Why would she behave in that way?”

“It’s not like you to be jealous either, but you’re furious with me right now.” Claude shrugged. “Love makes us weird. Besides, Teach’s emotions are a little strange at times. I’d guess she’s not super experienced with matters of the heart. All the better for you to swoop in and be her professor.”

At Claude’s last suggestion, Ignatz blushed. “There is absolutely no way she loves me.”

“Explain her behavior otherwise.”

“She is angry that we’re all spending so much time flirting. Also, she’s in love with you.”

Claude started laughing again. “Okay, even if you don’t believe she’s interested in you, you gotta believe me when I say she is not interested in me. And, I’m not interested in her. She’s like a sister to me!”

“She—she _blushed_ when she, uh, touched you. And, you did too!”

“Okay, maybe she’s more like a very sexy cousin. We’re both young and attractive: we might enjoy getting cuddly. Doesn’t mean we’re in love or even that we want to fuck. Believe me when I say we have never gotten that close before and won’t again. She was doing that to get back at you.”

Ignatz was unmoved.

Claude frowned. “Look, Ignatz, I can’t ask her out for you. You now have a taste of how it would feel to lose her to someone else. Felt pretty bad, didn’t it? The longer you wait to tell her your feelings, the more you risk someone else stealing her heart. She likes you. Maybe even loves you. You can wait and hope those feelings don’t change, or you can talk to her and gamble on me being correct. Right now, I guarantee she’s back in her room, wishing you would talk about her with the same wistful expression you used when you talked about Raphael’s sister. Why don’t you go tell her she means all of that to you and more?”

Ignatz looked away. Claude’s speech was compelling. He sighed.

“Okay.”

“Okay? Need me to walk over there with you?”

“No.” Ignatz shook his head, meeting Claude’s gaze for the first time in the conversation. “I need to get something from my room first.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Ignatz turned to leave, then stopped. “And Claude?”

“Yeah?”

“Please never look at the professor that way again.”

Claude’s laughter rang through the courtyard. Maybe Ignatz should have punched him.

“I don’t think I can promise that! You picked a gorgeous woman to fall in love with.” Claude left Ignatz with one last wink and the two men parted.

Ignatz marched to his room with determination, trying to push all thoughts from his mind before he could talk himself out of confessing his love. He barely noticed as he opened his door and grabbed the professor’s painting from the side of his desk. Before he knew it, he was at her door. Ignatz let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and knocked.


	5. Chapter 5

The sound of Ignatz’ knock seemed to echo through the night air. One second passed, then another. Ignatz felt his courage drain out of him. He was about to turn away and flee when Byleth opened the door. She had already changed out of her day clothes for sleep and was tucking a robe around herself. As soon as she saw Ignatz, her face switched from the expression of concern she usually wore for students who needed to speak to her in the evening to an unreadable mask.

“Sorry to have disturbed you,” Ignatz began, “but I need to talk to you about something.” Okay, step one down. Ignatz had been planning this for months, running the conversation and all its potentialities over and over in his mind.

Byleth gave a small, almost tentative nod. She seemed nervous too. Maybe Claude was right. Maybe she did have feelings for him. Either way, Ignatz would know in a moment when he showed her the painting he had poured his heart into.

Byleth motioned for him to come inside and pulled out a chair for him. Thank goodness: Ignatz didn’t think he could handle sitting on her bed again. Her eyes kept darting to Ignatz as she moved across the room. She held up her teapot and he nodded. She poured and he thanked her. For a second, Ignatz used taking a sip of tea as an excuse not to talk, but he knew he would need to get to the point soon.

“Professor… um… Byleth?” he tried, tentatively. It felt more intimate to use her name, even if it was awkward. For the first time that day, he saw her smile and she nodded encouragingly. “I painted this for you and wanted you to have it.” With shaking hands, he unveiled the painting he had brought. Byleth inspected it. Her smile didn’t fade.

“Thank you, this is lovely. I can see that you put your heart into it.” Byleth moved the painting closer to her desk, so she could see it in the candlelight.

Ignatz’ pulse quickened. His… heart? Did that mean she saw all the love he put into it?

“I still think you will regret not becoming an artist.” Byleth met his eyes, her smile unfaded. Ignatz thought he saw her eyes dart to his mouth, but her tone was that of a professor, not of a woman realizing the man she yearned for returned her affection.

Then Ignatz remembered: ‘I'm really going to put my heart in it.’ That’s what he had said to her months ago, when he had promised to paint something for her as a gift. Byleth meant that he loved painting, not that he loved her.

It was settled, then. Claude was wrong. Byleth cared for Ignatz in the same way she cared for all her students.

Ignatz tried to keep the disappointment from his voice. “You remembered our conversation.”

“Of course. But, we had that conversation months ago. Why did it take you so long to give the painting to me? I hope you weren’t worried about my reaction.” Again, there was a strange disconnect between her eyes, which seemed to be searching for the answer to an unspoken question in Ignatz’ face, and her voice, which was the same she used when instructing her class. Ignatz cursed his overactive imagination. The flicker of the candlelight on her face was playing tricks on his mind.

“Not at all,” he lied. “I simply wanted to make sure it was perfect before I gave it to you.”

“It is perfect. I will treasure it.”

* * *

Ignatz had given her a gift and it made Byleth deliriously happy. _Don’t be foolish,_ she scolded herself. _You have to wait for the end of the war to tell him you love him, even if it means losing him._ With a pang, Byleth remembered the conversation earlier. It hurt to find out that Ignatz, who had once told her he had to paint every beautiful thing he saw, had painted, spent time with in an intimate setting, most of the women he knew. Most of the women… but not her.

Byleth took a breath and repeated a few well-worn lines like mantras. _You are his commander. You do not have time for a relationship. You do not even have time for casual sex. It is likely you will die in this war and where would that leave him? It is better for so many reasons for him to make a lover out of another. Someone who won’t leave him for nights on end to read war strategies by dwindling candlelight. Someone who doesn’t have to put themselves in the vanguard and lead every charge._

She swallowed and told herself her final lie: _it is better for you too, if you guard your heart._ She thought of her pain as she held her father’s dying body. Her heartache when she had to strike Ashe until he yielded at Ailell. The tremor that shook her when she thought of the inevitability of watching Hubert and Edelgard’s blood flow until the life faded from them. Her feelings for Ignatz surpassed her feelings for Ashe, Hubert, and Edelgard. Loving him would hurt too much.

“Professor?” Oh, but how she wanted him to use her name again.

* * *

“Professor?” Ignatz decided it was best for both of them if he went back to formalities. “Should we call it a night?” Byleth nodded. “Do you want me to help you clean the cups?”

She shook her head and Ignatz watched as her hair cascaded down her face and neck. He watched as her large eyes glowed in the candlelight. As she lifted her cup to her lips — so red, so soft — and they pursed around its rim. Some of her robe had fallen away and he could see the white skin of her calf, the scars on her thigh.

If he was a fool for continuing to find her captivating, then let everyone in Fódlan call him a fool. 

“Actually, I was wondering… could I paint you?”

“Right now?” Byleth’s eyes widened.

“No, no, daylight is better to paint in.” Tomorrow was Sunday and he knew the professor always took that day off. “I could start tomorrow?”

“How long will it take?” Byleth’s question was innocent, but it made Ignatz feel bad: he didn’t want her to spend the whole session wishing she were somewhere else.

“Well, it’s up to you, I guess. Everyone else I’ve painting in a morning or an afternoon, but to truly do it right, I would need a lot of time, spread across many days. I’d probably sketch you for a few days, then get to painting. I wouldn’t need you to model for me in the last stages, but, if you are willing, I would require you as a model during the sketching and initial painting portions.”

Byleth was smiling again. Oh, good. Her smile made the world so much brighter. “You want to put that much time into a painting of me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He couldn’t keep the adoration from his voice.

“You didn’t put this much time into painting anyone else,” Byleth said, and there was something in her tone. Pride? Well, that made sense. Everyone liked being admired and adored, even if the person doing the admiration was someone like Ignatz, who wasn’t really exciting the way men like Claude or Sylvain were. 

“I want to spend a long time painting you, Professor. But, if you don’t want that…” Ignatz trailed off.

Byleth replied quickly, “No, I do. You can take as long as you need.”

“Until tomorrow, then, Professor.” Ignatz stood and made for the door.

“Byleth.”

“Until tomorrow then, Byleth.”

Ignatz shut Byleth’s door and walked the short distance to his own. He would need to be professional while painting her. It would probably be best, Ignatz convinced himself, as if it were a solemn duty and not something he very much wanted to do, to touch himself and think about Byleth now, to minimize distractions tomorrow. In fact, he should do it tomorrow too, for good measure. And maybe the day after that…

Ignatz lay on his bed and let his mind wander, rubbing himself through his pants before removing them completely. He wanted to paint Byleth stretched out on his bed, naked. The curves of her thighs he had made out before through her clothes, but the mound of dark wetness that lay between them he filled in with his imagination. _You’ve been a wonderful model for me,_ he would say and her face would light up. _And you,_ fantasy Byleth said, standing, making her way across the room, _an amazing artist._ She would straddle his lap, pulling him in close for a deep kiss. Her mouth would open and she would slip her tongue into him, claiming his mouth as her own, all the while grinding her naked body against him hungrily. Ignatz stroked himself slowly, wanting to make the fantasy last. Byleth would remove his clothes, kissing his skin as she exposed it, then climb back into his lap, guiding his face in for another open-mouthed kiss while she ran her wet slit along the length of his cock.

Ignatz moaned louder than he intended as he pictured her taking his cock into her. She would take him a little deeper with each thrust, until he was completely buried inside of her. Involuntarily, his back arched as he stroked himself harder on his bed. Byleth would ride him gently at first, then faster, rougher: her hands running down his back, buried in his hair; her lips kissing, then biting his neck, tugging at his ear. Ignatz loved imagining his Goddess in charge: fucking herself on his dick, taking her pleasure, using his cock, his hands, to bring herself to bliss. He wanted Byleth to come around him, reminding him that his purpose was to fulfill her needs.

But, she was also a benevolent Goddess and did not ignore the prayers of the faithful. At the moment, Ignatz’ prayers reached heaven in the form of moans, punctuated by shaky breaths. Ignatz could tell he was close. _Come for me,_ Byleth’s lips raked his ear, _defile your Goddess with your seed._ Ignatz thrust into his hand as he imagined thrusting into her, off-hand clenching at his sheets as he imagined himself tangling his hand in her hair. He bit back a moan he wanted to keep the whole monastery from hearing as he came, his handkerchief a poor stand in for Byleth’s warm body.

Sleep arrived quickly, and, even as Ignatz told himself Byleth would have to remain a platonic friend forever, he found his dreams were of her. After a morning of endless mental repetitions that Byleth didn’t return his feelings, but that was okay, and another quick, shameful masturbation session, Ignatz found himself once again full of nerves as he knocked on her door. He hadn’t seen her at the dining hall for breakfast and realized too late that they had never set a time to meet. Ignatz had packed a bag full of art supplies, in case she was ready now. He hoped she hadn’t changed her mind in the time since they last spoke. Or that she hadn’t said yes only to be polite. His stomach turned over, filled with nerves.

Despite his fears, after only one knock, Byleth spoke from behind the door.

“Ignatz?”

“Lucky guess! Would you still like me to paint you, Prof— Byleth?”

“Yes!” Byleth sounded genuinely excited, which was a good sign. “What should I wear?”

Ignatz hadn’t thought of that either. When she wasn’t on the battlefield, Byleth had one outfit she wore for teaching and exploring the monastery. He hadn’t realized she had multiple to choose from, although he supposed that was a silly thought: of course she had more than one outfit!

“Anything you would like,” Ignatz replied.

Byleth’s door creaked open. “Is this okay?” she asked, stepping into the sunlight.

Okay! The outfit was more than okay! Ignatz’ mind went fuzzy as he gazed at her. Byleth was wearing a dark dress with pink and silver adornments: her own version of the outfit dancers usually wore. The choker fastened around her pale neck paired with the incredibly indecent length of the slit going up her thigh and the tantalizingly low cut around her breast made Ignatz feel faint. Move one strip of fabric out of the way and… 

Byleth was gazing at him expectantly, so Ignatz swallowed and forced himself to meet her eyes.

“Your dress is perfect.” He couldn’t stop himself from continuing. “You already look like a living piece of art.”

He looked away before he could see her reaction and blushed. He really had to stop saying things like that. But, it was difficult: the same force that compelled Ignatz to stare at the blossoms on the trees or the stars in the night sky compelled him to praise Byleth, a human picture of beauty.

“Glad it works.” He could hear the smile in Byleth’s voice, even if he couldn’t look at her. “I was going to the dining hall to pack a picnic lunch for us. How does that sound to you?”

“That sounds great.”

As Ignatz and Byleth set off for the dining hall, Ignatz felt like his heart — no, all of him — was going to explode. Byleth looked so lovely and wanted him to paint her and despite having to spend hours one-on-one while he painted, she wanted to spend even more time alone with him during lunch. He wished this could be a date, but felt so uncomfortable making the suggestion, especially considering Byleth’s polite but unenthusiastic reaction to his painting. Although, Ignatz couldn’t help but wonder if he should have confessed more transparently. He pushed the thought aside. Surely, if she was interested in him, she would have said it last night, if not before. Besides, why would she be interested in someone like him? The monastery was full of strong, tall men with crests and money and dreams they followed through on. Not to mention all the beautiful women, with curves the professor had surely noticed and clever minds and the courage to make their own destinies. If the professor were to take a lover, just about anyone else would be more suitable. 

Still as they grabbed the picnic lunch and made their way out to the field Ignatz liked to paint in, his heart felt so full. If this were a date, he would take her hand in his. If this were a date, he would kiss her bare shoulder the way the spring breeze was kissing it now. He would pick a flower and tuck it behind her ear, kissing her neck as he…

“Ignatz?” He started. Had she been talking to him this whole time? Byleth was peering at him. “Are you okay? You seem to be daydreaming more than usual.”

“I am so sorry! I was thinking about what colors to use to do your dress justice,” he lied, feeling terrible for spending so much time thinking about his imaginary Byleth that he neglected the one next to him.

“It’s okay… I do wonder what is on your mind, though,” Byleth said, scrutinizing Ignatz a little more than he was comfortable with.

Thankfully, they arrived at the lovely little flower patch where he usually worked in the spring and he was spared having to respond.

“Um, here we are.” Ignatz gestured to a soft spot in the grass. “You can sit here, if you’d like. The sun shouldn’t be in your eyes.”

But, Byleth had ideas of her own. Instead of sitting among the flowers like his models usually did, she stretched out on her side in the grass. The already dangerously revealing slit in her dress falling open further, exposing all of her toned thigh with its many battle scars. Ignatz tried, and failed, to avert his eyes.

“Is this pose okay?” Byleth asked, seemingly unaware of the impact her position, dress, and general existence had on Ignatz. “I didn’t want to crush the flowers and sitting up for so long sounds tiring after all the training I’ve been doing.”

“That makes sense, Professor. Uh, Byleth. That position is perfect.” Then, he added, so he felt like less of a creep. “I can lay my cloak across your lap so you’re more covered.” Oh dear, maybe that was the creepy thing to say. Maybe it would have been safer to say nothing. Ignatz had no idea.

Byleth looked down at her legs. “Is this inappropriate?”

“No no,” Ignatz shook his head. “I mean, I can’t see anything other than your leg — not that I was looking! I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable.”

Byleth’s face was blank. “This is fine by me.”

“Okay, then.” Ignatz smiled through his nerves and got to work setting up his parchment and pencils for the initial sketch. Byleth switched to laying on her back, staring up the sky. Ignatz wouldn’t mind drawing her in this pose, either. She had a dreamy look on her face and her hair was fanned out around her head. Actually, Ignatz was hard-pressed to think of a pose he didn’t want to capture her in: she was radiant from every angle, in every landscape, and every lighting.

Prep work done, Ignatz began to outline Byleth. He had been concerned that his nerves might cause his hands to shake or get sweaty, but once he started drawing, all of his worries faded away. It was just him, the parchment, and his lovely Goddess. Ignatz was in heaven.


	6. Chapter 6

Byleth was in hell. She knew Ignatz was looking at her as an artist’s model, but she still felt shivery whenever his eyes raked over her form. She hadn’t intended to come across as sexy, but as the warm spring wind blew over her bare legs, she was starting to realize her dress left little to the imagination. With the object of her desire scrutinizing every inch of her body and nothing to do but think, Byleth found her mind wandering to sex, no matter how hard she tried to ponder different topics.

It was mortifying to imagine Ignatz inside of her when he was directly in front of her. It felt even more embarrassing because she was struck with the realization that he really looked so awkward and sweet. It was easy to write off his boyish appearance when she was alone in her room at night, but with Ignatz not ten feet away from her and the sun so bright on this early spring day, Byleth felt ashamed at the juxtaposition between her filthy imagination and both the setting and the man she was with.

As embarrassed as she was to be attracted to someone who was more _cute_ than _sexy_ , Byleth was aroused by it as well. She wondered, not for the first time, if Ignatz could bring himself to be rough with her. As much as she enjoyed imagining herself on top or the two of them entwined, whispering sweet nothings, she would also enjoy it if he ordered her on all fours and took her from behind, holding her hips tight as he thrust. To someone who didn’t know Ignatz well, it seemed unlikely. But, Byleth had noticed something new in him when she had awoken in this world of war. An angry glint in his eye when he sniped an enemy soldier: a sense of urgency and ferocity when he ordered his battalion to charge. Yes, Byleth decided, he could fuck her hard. And now she was getting wet…

Lunch was a nice break from lying in the grass and conversation and eating distracted Byleth from her imagination, which was becoming dirtier and dirtier by the minute. War brought with it less food all around, but the kitchen had still been able to provide savory hand pies, stuffed with spring vegetables and lamb, as well as lemon tarts for dessert. As they ate, they chatted comfortably about books, friends, and the painting. Ignatz seemed really pleased with the progress of his sketch and Byleth was happy to see him so happy. He often worried her: she knew in a kinder world he would have never held a weapon, much less used one to kill. She hoped he knew he could lean on her. She wanted him to lean on her. The idea of someday being his partner and being the person he turned to with his numerous worries and his even more numerous dreams made Byleth feel lightheaded in a delicious way. Her fantasies about Ignatz weren’t always dirty, after all. She wanted him to trust her, to feel comfortable around her, to open his heart to her. Today, sitting on the grass, laughing and talking, Byleth felt like they were getting closer to that goal. 

Soon it was back to sketching. Byleth settled in again on the grass, enjoying the noonday sun after so many months of what had, to her, felt like one long winter.

“The initial sketch is almost done,” Ignatz said cheerily as he studied his work so far. “After this is the really fun part. But, we’ll get to that tomorrow. Uh, that is, if you have time.”

Byleth nodded. “We have our war meeting and I have to train. You should, too.” she added, unable to stop herself from being a professor. Ignatz only smiled at her chiding and she continued. “Will the evening light be okay to paint in?”

“It should be fine.” Ignatz turned back to his canvas and then looked at Byleth again, studying her. “Your dress is in a different position than it was this morning. It wouldn’t be a problem if it was a little off, but it is pretty far off. Do you mind moving the fabric?” Byleth nodded. “Okay, the part facing me was a little twisted before. It looked nice. Can you try to twist it again?”

Byleth fiddled with her dress, but she wasn’t really sure what he meant.

Ignatz shook his head. “It’s easier if I do it. Is that okay?” Byleth gave a small nod and, without another word, Ignatz marched over to where Byleth was lying.

Ignatz’ mind was clearly fully occupied with his painting, because without thinking about it, he reached down and fiddled with the front of Byleth’s dress, frowning to himself all the while. He walked back to the painting, looked at it, then back at Byleth, and shook his head again.

“I need to fix something else on your dress now, alright?” Byleth nodded once more and the process repeated itself. Ignatz was so lost in thought he didn’t realize how close he was to Byleth until his hand grazed rather high on her leg. Ignatz jerked his hand away and then froze.

“Sorry!” He didn’t meet Byleth’s eyes, but she could see him blush.

“It’s okay,” she said encouragingly. Ignatz only stepped back further, still refusing to look at her.

“Maybe we should be done for the day. I can… finish this on my own.”

“Come back,” Byleth said softly. “Guide my hand. You can show me how to fix the dress.”

Ignatz seemed to like this idea even less. “But then I’m still touching you!” he all-but-wailed. Byleth had no idea touching her was so terrible.

“My hand should feel like nothing after you carried me across the monastery.” Ignatz still seemed hesitant, so Byleth added, her voice gentle. “It will be like when we first met and I helped you with your bow.”

Ignatz sighed and stepped closer. Byleth held out her hand and he grasped the back of it, guiding it down to her legs, helping her move the fabric just so. Byleth could feel him trembling. It wasn’t at all like when she had helped him learn to shoot his training bow five years ago. This time, they were very close: Ignatz kneeling on the ground at her side, his hand, now a little larger than hers, guiding her up and down her own body, adjusting the fabric. His palm was calloused from holding weapons and stained with charcoal from drawing her. She liked how it felt against the back of her hand: warm and a little shaky (okay, very shaky).

“That should do it,” Ignatz said, almost in a whisper. He met her eyes for the first time. He didn’t let go of her hand.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.”

“No,” he said with a small smile, “it wasn’t.” His voice was still soft and his hand had stopped shaking. He turned her hand in his, so they were holding hands properly. Ignatz’ gaze had not dropped from her eyes and it was Byleth’s turn to tremble. Behind his glasses, his eyes were full of such care and admiration. They stared at each other for a moment, until Byleth felt she couldn’t wait any longer. She was ready to feel his weight on top of her and his lips meeting hers. She tugged, gently, beckoning him closer. Ignatz seemed like he was going to yield as well. She saw him place his other hand on the ground to stabilize himself. His eyes darted to her lips and back to her eyes again. This was it. Byleth took a shaky breath—

With a crack and a bang, the easel fell over, and the parchment attached to it threatened to fall into the dirt. Ignatz jumped up and ran to his work, quickly picking it up and inspecting it.

“N-nothing was harmed, Professor!” Oh no, ‘Professor’ again. Had she scared him off? Byleth smiled weakly from her spot on the grass. “Your dress still looks fine too. Let’s finish this sketch?” Byleth nodded. Yes, the sketch. It should be finished. Ignatz was clearly proud of it. There was no need to seduce poor Ignatz: he just wanted to paint.

Fortunately, (or unfortunately) Ignatz had been correct: it took him less than an hour to finish everything he had wanted to do today. When he was done, he helped Byleth to her feet, but the contact didn’t have the charge of their earlier moment.

“Sorry, I guess we could have finished it all before lunch,” Ignatz said as they made their way back to the monastery. Byleth shrugged and they walked in silence. When they reached Byleth’s room, he spoke again. “Today was really nice.” She could tell he meant it. “Are you still okay with meeting tomorrow evening for me to start painting?”

Byleth smiled. “Why wouldn’t I be?” She wanted to dispel any awkwardness.

“Oh good.” She could hear the relief in his voice. “I will see you around, then.”

Byleth shut her door and sighed, cursing her foolish heart. While Ignatz’ reaction seemed to indicate he was at least okay with a little make out session with the professor, that didn’t tell Byleth much: at this point, she figured everyone in the monastery was down to make out with everyone else. She still had no indication that a relationship was on the table. Sex alone might be a possibility, but she realized with a jolt that she was too infatuated with him to start something that lacked the promise of going somewhere deeper.

She didn’t want to bring up a relationship herself, because, knowing Ignatz, turning her down would cause him anxiety for weeks and his morale on the battlefield was already low. After the war — assuming there was an “after” and they lived to see it — they would both be more emotionally equipped for the awkwardness that came with rejecting or being rejected (also, they wouldn’t have to see each other every day). Until then, she had to retreat back into being a professor and nothing more. 

* * *

Monday’s training and war meeting went smoothly. Ignatz seemed his usual self: he had clearly moved on from whatever had happened between them yesterday. Byleth wished she could move on so quickly. She kept replaying the scene in her mind. The way Ignatz had so boldly moved her hand in his. His unwavering gaze that held so many emotions. Or, had she imagined the lovelight in his eyes? Byleth was usually so good at reading people and so good at keeping her feelings steady. This new… love… that was growing inside of her was affecting her more than she ever thought possible. Manuela’s weird behaviors were starting to make more sense.

She was happy to see that Ignatz didn’t feel awkward around her. Still she was surprised when, as she walked back to her room after dinner, chatting with Leonie, he ran up to the two women and eagerly addressed Byleth.

“Are you ready for me to paint you now?”

“Good evening to you too, Ignatz,” Leonie said, raising her eyebrows at him.

“Hi, Leonie. Oh no, did I interrupt your conversation? I am so sorry: I wasn’t thinking about it… I’ve been so excited to paint the professor, as soon as I saw her I wanted to talk to her about it.”

Ignatz looked so genuinely sorry at his interruption that Leonie’s annoyance dissipated.

“You’re painting the professor? That’s great! I think our conversation was just about over, anyways. Professor, I’ll meet you tomorrow morning for more practice, okay?” Byleth nodded. “I’ll see you then! Have fun with painting!” Leonie said, making her way into her room.

Byleth turned to Ignatz, extending her hand in a gesture she frequently made and they set off for the field.

The first painting session went well, as did the second, and the third. To give them more time, they started eating together and then taking off to paint. One evening, as they hurried out of the dining hall rather early, Byleth caught Claude looking at her. He gave her a little wink and whispered something to Hilda, who turned to look at Byleth as well. Hilda giggled. _Great._ She’d have to talk to them and set the record straight soon. But she found she wasn’t in a big rush to correct their misunderstanding of the scene.

As the days turned into weeks, Byleth saw more people whispering and still said nothing. Even when they weren’t painting, Byleth found excuses to spend time with Ignatz. She sought him out on the warpath and sat near him around the fire at camp. Their evenings and Sundays spent painting together were idyllic and it hurt Byleth more than she cared to admit when the painting had to be put on hold for their march to the Great Bridge of Myrddin.

They took the Bridge. The war with the Empire had begun in earnest. In between it all, Byleth still made time to sit for Ignatz. She felt a little silly, really, she had so much to do, and yet… those hours together felt like a dreamy world entirely outside their own. Despite the war, the flowers kept blooming. Despite her misgivings, Byleth’s feelings for Ignatz bloomed as well. After their moment in the field, Ignatz had been very friendly with her and definitely just as enthusiastic to paint her as she was to spend time with him, but had given her no hint that he might want something more. Still, she couldn’t stop the stab in her breast the evening the painting was finished.

A slight chill was in the air: the weather in Great Tree Moon could be variable and today summer seemed far away. Ignatz was painting later than usual. The sun was low on the horizon, but Byleth didn’t care to interrupt his work. As soon as she left his side it was back to her room to write up battle strategies, manage troops, and, if she was lucky, catch a few hours of sleep before the cycle began again.

She must have been spacing out, because she started when she heard Ignatz call her over.

“It’s done! Well, most of the painting, anyways. There are still some things to finish up with it, but we’re very nearly there.”

Byleth eagerly ran over and, in the fading light, caught the beautiful rendering of her own image.

“What do you think?” Ignatz asked shyly.

“It’s gorgeous.” The painting was her but better. Ignatz had captured each curve of her body and twist of her dress. The battle scars that littered her skin were visible in the places where her dress had fallen away. Despite the realism of some aspects of the painting, Byleth couldn’t help but think he had greatly improved on her appearance. Her skin was rosy, not pale like it usually was. Her eyes seemed to be lit from within. Her lips were red and parted slightly. Was this how Ignatz saw her?

“You are amazing.” Byleth failed to keep her appreciation for him out of her voice.

“You’re the amazing one.”

Byleth could feel her pulse quicken. She went through the motion of packing up her things while she collected herself. They made their way back to the dorms, chatting easily.

“I’m going to miss doing this with you. I can’t believe this is almost over.” Byleth felt so calm, as she always did after their painting sessions.

Ignatz paused. “I guess it is over. I don’t need a model for the remainder of the painting. I’m sorry, I was so excited to show you my work, I forgot this was it.”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. Why wasn’t she fine? Byleth felt sad and angry. Why was she angry?

“Okay…” Ignatz said nervously, “sorry, anyways.”

The walk continued in silence. Ignatz had gone from elated at the painting’s progress to crushed. She was usually so good at cheering students up, at understanding them and putting their needs before her own. Maybe it was for the best her time as a model had come to an end: clearly, her feelings for Ignatz caused her to behave in a manner most unlike herself. What did it matter to her that she was done modeling for the painting?

They reached her room. Byleth nodded a curt goodnight and made to open the door, but Ignatz pushed it back with his hand. Byleth’s eyes widened: it wasn’t like him to be so bold.

“I’ve had such a nice time with you. I’m sorry I didn’t plan something special for our last day.”

“It’s fine,” Byleth repeated.

“I don’t think it is. Please, let me make it up to you.”

“There is really no need.” Byleth’s voice was cold. Part of her knew she was being ridiculous, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“Let’s at least walk a little more. It’s a lovely night.”

Byleth felt herself relenting. “Okay. Do you want to drop the painting off in my room?”

“That would be great.”

The stars were out in full when they set off again. Byleth felt her anger melting away. She had noticed Ignatz glancing at her throughout their walk and she finally returned his gaze. She smiled and he beamed back at her. They walked side by side in a now comfortable silence. Byleth wasn’t thinking about where they were headed until she found herself at the base of the Goddess Tower.

“I guess we should turn around now, right?” Ignatz remarked.

Byleth walked up and tried the door. Finding it unlocked, she pulled it open, extending her arm to beckon Ignatz inside.

He hesitated. “We aren’t allowed in there.”

Byleth just shrugged and walked in. She never went into the Goddess Tower during the day, but she had explored it many nights when sleep evaded her. 

Tentatively, Ignatz followed her. “What if we get caught?” He sounded really nervous. Byleth was surprised he didn’t turn around and run out. “I guess you’re sort of the archbishop. You can go anywhere, right?” Ignatz was clearly trying to mollify himself, so Byleth nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced. He kept chattering, anxiously. “I’ve been in here before. The night of the ball.”

This made Byleth pause. The jealousy she kept trying to push down flared within her.

“Were you meeting someone?”

“Oh, no,” Ignatz laughed, “I was hoping to see the Goddess.”

Byleth looked at him quizzically.

“You know the stories about this place, right? On the night of the festival, if two people make a wish together the Goddess appears before them and fulfills it. I didn’t have anyone to invite, so I snuck in, hoping some other couple would make a wish and I could see the Goddess appear for them.”

Dorothea had mentioned something similar when she met Byleth here after the ball. The issue was, Byleth hadn’t really cared to wish anything with Dorothea. It had been an accident they had met, nothing more. But now…

After her silence, Ignatz continued. “We could make a wish tonight, but it’s not the evening of the festival. Besides,” he paused, voice taking on a nervous tone, “I think it only works for lovers.” Before Byleth could say anything, he walked to the slight balcony off the side of the tower, looking up at the sky. “I should come here more often: you get a wonderful view of the stars.”

Byleth wandered over to the balcony, halfheartedly trying to keep a distance between them. Ignatz was right: the stars were beautiful. Byleth found herself shivering. The sun had taken with it the last remnants of the day’s warmth and she wished she had grabbed her cape from her room.

“Are you cold?” Ignatz asked. Oh, he had been watching her, Byleth realized. His voice was soft, as it had been when he held her hand that day in the field. Before she could say anything, Ignatz closed the distance she had placed between them and laid his cloak on her shoulders.

And Byleth realized what a fool she’d been. He was interested her. Of course he was. Why else would he spend all that time on her painting? Why else would he steal glances at her across the room during war meetings? This whole time, Byleth had been looking for a sign that it was okay to move forward with a romantic relationship and Ignatz had done nothing but provide her with opportunity after opportunity. If she wanted a lover who would grab her and kiss her she had picked the wrong target for her affections. Besides, she didn’t want that. She wanted this: a cloak laid over her, quiet conversations on a starry night. All of her reasons for why they couldn’t be together had just been lies she told herself, in a misguided attempt to guard her heart. Wrapped in Ignatz’ cloak, she no longer cared to guard it from him.

“Thank you,” she said, matching his gentle tone. Byleth moved a little closer.

“I—I should tell you something.” The boldness that had allowed Ignatz to throw his cloak over Byleth had vanished. He was stumbling over his words now, awkward. Byleth found it so very charming.

“Yes?” Her heart sped up. In these last few months, it had certainly made up for the years it had spent dormant. Byleth fiddled with the tassels on Ignatz’ cloak, suddenly nervous herself.

“That night, um, the night of the festival?” Ignatz began.

Byleth moved closer, so their shoulders brushed against each other. Ignatz’ shoulder felt so warm and solid against hers. She wondered how his lips would feel on her lips; how his hands would feel on her back. She shivered again, but not from the cold. Ignatz kept his gaze fixed at the stars, but leaned into her, deepening the contact.

“I did see the Goddess that night.” Finally, he turned to look at her. Just as they had been that day in the field, his eyes were full of the feeling Byleth once thought to be admiration, but now guessed to be – lust? love? – something felt for her alone, “only—”

And all the bells of the monastery began to chime in unison. Instinct kicked in and Byleth forgot about Ignatz as she ran to the base of the tower and out onto the monastery grounds. She grabbed the first guard she encountered.

“What’s happening?”

“Professor! We’ve gotten a report that the Kingdom Army is approaching.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has spoilers through chapter 17 of VW and references the major character death that occurs just after the battle in that chapter.

Byleth’s hand twitched around The Sword of the Creator. She, Claude, and Hilda had made their way to the west side of Gronder Field slowly, hacking through the Kingdom army. It felt ridiculous to kill soldiers who should be their allies, but the man Dimitri had become was not well and he sent wave after wave of men to die on their weapons.

It still made no sense: even in his madness, Dimitri wanted to kill Edelgard. Certainly the enemy of his enemy was his friend? She supposed it was too late to guess at his motives. However, she was glad she had sent Sylvain and Mercedes to the other side of the battlefield: despite not knowing him well, it hurt to see Dimitri like this. He was looking at her with a glint in his remaining eye that cut her to her soul. This was a man in need of help, not an enemy to kill. All the same, as he raised his lance, Byleth raised her sword.

Byleth hesitated: Dimitri did not. Still, perhaps his lance goring her shoulder and not any vital organs had not been an accident. She supposed she would never know, because she saw Claude’s arrow hit true. Dimitri, surrounded by knights and the ever-present towering figure of Dedue, vanished into the forest and she was lying in the dirt, the pain in her arm just now reaching her fogged brain. Maybe she should have left Mercedes nearby after all.

Byleth swallowed enough of a concoction to stop her vision from spinning and scanned the ground for enemies, knowing Claude and Hilda could handle anything from the sky. There were no enemies around her, but a soldier from her army was approaching. Only, that didn’t make sense: she had sent everyone else off to fight the Empire, hoping she, Claude, and Hilda could talk to Dimitri and Dedue, their battalions holding off the Kingdom forces.

Then she saw the rider. Ignatz looked very confident on the horse Byleth had only recently suggested he ride: with Claude now in the air, a bow knight was a useful asset on the battlefield.

“Byleth!” Ignatz jumped off his horse and ran to Byleth’s side. He made to press one hand to her hair and the other to her cheek, but Byleth batted him away with her good arm. Hurt and confusion clouded Ignatz’ dirt and sweat-stained face.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, the adrenaline of battle coursing through her. “Get back to your position.”

“I saw you fall! I wanted to protect you!” She could hear the fear in his voice, but she didn’t care. Out here, she was his general. Hell, in the monastery she was his general, no matter how many tender moments they shared. Shakily, Byleth stood, once again batting away the hand meant to help her.

“You can protect me by staying where I told you to stay. Where is your battalion?” Byleth was furious. She hoped the anger on her face covered up the grimace of pain she made when she felt her wound smart. Byleth swallowed more concoction and the bleeding subsided. The pain remained. 

“Bernadetta was my adjunct, she’s—”

“Get back to your position right now, or I’ll order you to retreat and Bernadetta can take over your command.”

Ignatz’ face was flushed. From the battle, from his concern for her, from his shame at being reprimanded, Byleth didn’t know.

“Let me stay by your side until the battle is over. Please. I beg you! I can’t leave you when you’re hurt!”

“I need to see to my troops. Go see to yours.” Byleth turned away. It was silly, to turn away from someone on the battlefield, but she had to send a message. Personal feelings didn’t matter on a field of war.

An hour later, she slashed Edelgard across the chest, steading her hand to deal the death blow when Edelgard and Hubert vanished.

Two hours later, Marianne saw to her wounds.

Three hours later, they heard the news of Dimitri’s death and Byleth felt her hand shake, but her face remained expressionless.

Four hours later, she collapsed in her tent and, for only the second time in her life, cried.

* * *

Ignatz apologized at least five times. He even brought her flowers on the third apology, which Byleth was ashamed to admit she kept. The issue was, Byleth wasn’t even angry with him, she was angry with herself for the way she kept encouraging them to flirt and get closer. Of course he would rush to her side if she fell. He was only human. It was hard enough to watch a friend fall, but to see someone you cared about as more than a friend go down was a feeling unparalleled.

The walls around her heart went back up and the excuses began again. She had no time for a lover, she would hurt him, he’d forget himself on the battlefield again, this time to disastrous results. Byleth repeated each to herself whenever Ignatz glanced her way and her heart began to pound. The small voice that spoke the contrary, that told her this not-quite-love was causing them both frustration and confusion and pain as well, that told her life was precious and she should cherish any second they could steal together, that told her she deserved love and that a little rest would be okay, had to be drowned out.

Her heart still leapt when Ignatz arrived at her door one Sunday morning, holding the finished painting. It looked even more beautiful now than it had that day in the field. Ignatz’ last touches made the grass a little greener, given Byleth’s face more depth. Byleth could see the care he put into it: now that she knew of his desire, the attention he had given to her form — to the pout of her lips and the roundness of her breasts — made her blush. He had framed it as well, gone into town and gotten one of the carpenters to do it. As if Byleth didn’t already feel indebted enough, he also bought a frame for her other painting of his. When Byleth offered to pay him back, Ignatz shook his head.

“What’s the point of a picture if you can’t hang it up?” Ignatz looked like he wanted to say more, but Byleth needed to stop him from continuing. She had been careful not to be alone with him too often. She was sure if they spent more than five minutes talking, the conversation would turn to the inevitable. 

“Thank you. I need to meet Seteth soon.” Not exactly a lie — Seteth wanted to go over some church business with her — but their meeting was a little later in the day. “I’ll hang these up myself.”

“I can help you, if you want. Come find me when you’re done with your meeting and we can—”

“Thanks, but I’m not sure how long the meeting will last.” Byleth tried to be polite but dismissive.

“Of course.” Ignatz looked at the ground. Byleth hated making Ignatz retreat into himself, hated being the cause of even more anxiety for him, but she couldn’t help it. It had to be done.

Ignatz out of the way, Byleth set to work hanging the pictures by herself, regretting that she didn’t have someone to help her. She couldn’t figure out how to get two paintings to fit in her small room. The portrait of herself fit neatly on the wall to the side of her desk, but there wasn’t much space left for the painting of the Goddess. Byleth sighed and propped it against her bed: she would figure out what to do with it after her meeting with Seteth.

* * *

Seteth was surrounded by paperwork when Byleth entered his office. She hoped the paperwork wasn’t for her. Thankfully, when she sat down across from him he pushed the pile to one side and turned to face Byleth.

“Thank you for coming to see me on your day off,” Seteth began. “I wanted to update you on monastery repairs. As you likely noticed, clearing the rubble in the church has been slow going. I appreciate your students’ help with that task, but it will be a while yet before it is complete. However, the bridge is more stable now and the entrance hall is almost restored. With all the looting that occurred, we lost most of our decorations, so the hall will remain bare for now, but it is structurally sound and that is what matters at the moment.”

Byleth nodded to show she was listening, wondering what her role in all this was. Thankfully, Seteth got to the point.

“With the help the students have been able to provide, we have come in under budget for monastery restoration. As much as we would all love to see Garreg Mach restored to its pre-war state, I felt it only appropriate to divert these extra funds to the war effort: we can focus on beautifying the grounds at a more appropriate time. I wanted to see if you were of the same mind, Professor.”

Byleth nodded her affirmation, getting a little tired of moving her head so much.

“Excellent. I will send the extra funds your way once I have paid the contractors. Thank you for stopping by.”

As Byleth stood to leave, she realized the solution to both the “abundance” of paintings in her tiny room and Seteth’s lament over the bare entrance hall.

“Can I hang a painting in the hall?”

Seteth looked at her curiously. “I did not know you painted or collected art.”

Byleth shook her head. “Ignatz made it.”

A new expression dawned on Seteth’s face. “I see. I heard you two were close. Is he a competent artist?”

Byleth nodded once more. She wasn’t sure what to make of Seteth’s comment about her and Ignatz being close. Like most topics involving Ignatz, it seemed easiest to ignore his remark for now.

“I would like to see the painting first, to make sure it is appropriate for the setting and, no disrespect to Ignatz, of the caliber of the rest of the art at Garreg Mach. Otherwise, I see no reason not to display his painting.”

Byleth and Seteth walked over to her room, chatting amicably. When they reached her room, Byleth held out an arm to usher him inside, but Seteth shook his head.

“It would be most improper for me to go into your room, Professor.” Byleth shrugged, figuring Seteth was simply being prudish as always, but apparently he had something else on his mind. “You ought to extend the same rule to your male students.”

Byleth kept her face blank, despite her annoyance. Perhaps Seteth could sense her true feelings, however, because he continued rather quickly.

“I do not mean to overstep, it is only that your students are following your lead. Art is an acceptable gift, when courting, but it is no reason to allow a man into your room—”

Seteth’s earlier comment about Ignatz now made sense.

“Have you been spying on me?” Byleth asked, frowning.

“As I said, your students look to you as an example—”

“So, Flayn has been spying on me.”

Seteth was caught off-guard. “Your female students — all of your female students — admire you. If they see you let a man you are not married to into your room, they will wish to do the same.”

Byleth shook her head. There was no use fighting Seteth when he was like this.

“If you wish,” Seteth began, not unkindly, “I could speak to Ignatz about the value of marriage.”

Byleth’s eyes widened, but she tried to keep calm. She needed to end this conversation. “We’re not together. Now, would you like to see the painting?”

Seteth sighed. “Yes, bring it out.” Still, Byleth heard him mumble something about young people under his breath as she walked into her room. Byleth was pretty sure she remembered Seteth going into Hilda’s room to work on their children’s book together. Flayn must have tried to use Byleth and Ignatz as an example to get closer with some other man, or Seteth wouldn’t have cared. Byleth didn’t really have time to work out Seteth’s issues.

Thankfully, the picture did get Seteth on another topic. “Yes, this will serve as fine decoration for the hall. Are you quite sure Ignatz has consented to have it shown?”

Byleth hesitated. Asking for Ignatz’ consent seemed the right thing to do, but she did not want to speak to him more than was necessary. Besides, he gave the painting to her. Surely he didn’t intend for Byleth to keep it locked away forever?

Despite the unease in the pit of her stomach, Byleth nodded and Seteth left with the painting. She would tell Ignatz about it later. Perhaps it was just the push he needed to pursue his art career.

* * *

Byleth's usual Sunday schedule was thrown off after her meeting with Seteth. There was still about an hour until lunch: should she invite some students or staff to join her? She also wanted to do some fishing and check on her plants in the greenhouse, but which to do first? Byleth was so deep in thought, she didn’t notice when Ignatz approached her. While she wasn’t surprised to see him, she was surprised by the frown on his face, the anger in his eyes.

“Byleth, can I talk to you? Alone.” His expression didn’t change. Byleth had no idea what was going on, but could tell she would not be able to make up an excuse to get out of this conversation.

Byleth nodded and they walked to her room in silence. Once they were inside, she shut the door and he turned to face her.

“Did you hang my painting in the hall?” 

Byleth nodded, trying to keep her face blank, despite her inner turmoil. She never should have spoken to Seteth about the painting.

“That painting was supposed to be for you and you alone.”

Now Byleth was simply confused: had he really intended for her to never show it to anyone?

“Ignatz,” Byleth began slowly, “I apologize: hanging your picture in the hall without your permission was wrong. I can take it down—”

“There’s no point: I’m sure everyone’s seen it.” Ignatz’ voice was full of hurt. “And now they all know…”

Ignatz’ anger made sense, but Byleth was surprised by the sadness in his tone. Without thinking about it, she placed her hand on his arm. This time, Ignatz leaned away from her touch and Byleth’s heart squeezed painfully.

“I don’t understand.” Byleth wanted to remain calm. Logical. “What does everyone know?”

Ignatz was silent, staring at the wall of Byleth’s room with an intensity he usually reserved for his paintings.

Byleth tried again. “Ignatz, the painting is lovely. I’m sure—”

“That’s the problem.” Finally, finally, he turned to face Byleth. His eyes shown with a light she could not place. “It’s lovely because…” Ignatz took a breath, “okay, here goes nothing… it’s lovely because it’s _you._ ”

“The Goddess?” Byleth knew she should tell him to leave. She knew she should end this conversation before the course they had been on for months reached the conclusion Byleth was both yearning for and dreading.

“Don’t you get it? You are my Goddess! You have been for years now. I—I love you, Byleth.”

There it was. The room spun. She knew he loved her. Had easily figured it out after that night in the Goddess Tower. But to hear the words spoken out loud, to feel the way the words twisted around her pounding heart and across her tilting mind… Had anyone told her they loved her before? She searched her memory. Jeralt often said he was proud of her. Perhaps he had said he loved his daughter, once or twice, in those early years. Before he learned Byleth couldn’t say it back. Before he learned she lacked the capacity to feel love for her father, until the moment of his death.

And Byleth lacked the capacity to feel romantic love until the moment she woke from her swoon, wishing she could remember how it felt to be in Ignatz’ arms.

Ignatz met her gaze and held it, confident now. The spinning stopped and Byleth felt weightless, melting into his soft brown eyes.

“I’m sorry I can’t do this properly, with a ring and everything.” Ignatz continued, voice sure, even as his words unveiled his doubt. “And, I know, even if I did do it properly, it wouldn’t matter. There’s no way you could return my love: you’re an amazing hero and I’m not anything. I’m not a painter or even really a knight.”

He looked away from Byleth briefly and then, in a burst of boldness, took her hand in his. Byleth trembled, despite herself. There was no way Ignatz didn’t feel how all of her walls were falling.

He squeezed her hand. “I can’t lie to myself any longer: I love you! I’ve loved you for years and I want to be yours and for you to be mine forever. I want to paint your beauty in portrait after portrait.”

Byleth’s breath caught and her heart ached in her chest, but Ignatz’ gaze suddenly dropped.

“And—” It was as if all the courage left Ignatz at once, “and… I’ll go now. Because I already know your answer and I’m not strong enough to hear you spurn me. ”

Before letting her reply, Ignatz let go of her hand and turned to leave. After Gronder, Byleth had doubled her efforts in convincing herself that a wartime relationship was a bad idea. After Gronder, Byleth had pulled back up the walls she had briefly wanted to let down. Yet… if she let him walk away now, if she said nothing after his confession, she knew she would lose him forever. Byleth didn’t know what she wanted from the future: she didn’t know if she had a future. But, in this moment, Byleth knew exactly what she wanted, even if it was a colossal mistake.

“Please stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Ignatz’ S-support (surprise, surprise. Even if he isn’t your #1 husband, his is the best S-support in the game, right?) and, as you definitely noticed, incorporated lines from it into this chapter. A few more S-support references will appear at the start of the next. The one thing I don’t like is how quickly it resolves the conflict between Ignatz and his parents! Ignatz won’t get an easy out in this story.


	8. Chapter 8

“Please stay.” Did he hear her correctly?

“I’m not sure I should.” Ignatz didn’t want to chat about how he shouldn’t feel embarrassed and how they could move past this and still work together without issue. He would prefer to pretend his confession never happened.

“Ignatz,” Byleth’s voice was firm now, “look at me.”

Making himself turn around and look at Byleth was the hardest thing Ignatz had ever done. However, when he did, he realized with surprise that she was smiling. Actually, not just smiling: glowing.

“Byleth?”

“I would be honored.”

“I’m sorry?” Ignatz was struck with the realization that Byleth, who was usually so calm and collected, was struggling to get her words out.

“I’m saying,” she looked nervous, “I would be honored to be yours.”

“You mean…?”

Byleth nodded. “I love you too.”

Ignatz started. Was this a dream? Was she putting him on? Was she playing a cruel joke on him?

“Did you say what I think you said?”

Byleth stepped closer: their faces were now only inches apart.

“Yes.” Then, more firmly. “I love you.”

Ignatz couldn’t help himself: he stepped backwards and fell into Byleth’s chair.

“You said… you said you love me? You love me! You—”

Byleth silenced him with a kiss and Ignatz felt as if he was melting. The kiss was soft and a bit awkward, but he was pretty sure that was his fault: this was all so new to him. All too soon, Byleth pulled back.

Ignatz felt dizzy. “I need to lie down.” Slyly, Byleth motioned to the bed. “N—no, not there! I need to… oh, I feel faint.”

Byleth’s expression switched to one of concern. “Is this going to happen every time we kiss?” _Every… time? Right. They’d be kissing a lot now. Right. They could be kissing now, but Ignatz was messing everything up. Right. Pull it together._

“Breathe.” Byleth commanded. Ignatz obliged. “Feeling better?”

As a response, Ignatz stood, took Byleth’s face in his hands, and kissed her again. He felt her sigh against him and lean in close, wrapping her arms around him, holding him firm. Her lips were so soft and Ignatz never wanted her to let go. Experimentally, he opened his mouth, deepening the kiss. Byleth yielded to him and opened hers as well, allowing his tongue to enter her. Byleth moaned against him at the intrusion. It felt so good, just to explore her mouth. Ignatz wanted to kiss her for all of eternity and let out a frustrated groan when Byleth pulled back. He moved in to kiss her again, but instead she took his hand and led him to her bed. The thought of him and Byleth on the bed together made his stomach twist and his cock throb.

“I should tell you,” he began nervously, “I’ve never done this before.”

Byleth smiled. “I haven’t either.”

Oh? Oh. He’d be her first, then. And, if he had it his way, her only. Ignatz was feeling lightheaded again.

“It’s okay.” Byleth squeezed Ignatz’ hand. “We can figure it out together. Besides,” she added, “we can stop at any point. We only have to go as far as you want.”

“Well,” Ignatz gazed at Byleth intensely, “I want to go pretty far.”

Another smile spread across Byleth’s face. She lay down on the bed, pulling at his hand, encouraging him to join her. Ignatz surprised himself by obliging her eagerly. If kissing Byleth while standing up felt amazing, kissing her while lying on top of her felt like heaven. Byleth’s mouth was so yielding and he enjoyed exploring it with his own.

They were both starting to make soft moans now, grinding against each other as their kisses went from slow to frantic. Ignatz’ hands grasped at Byleth’s back and hair and he found himself reaching for her ass before he realized what he was doing. The feeling of her breasts pressed against his chest was amazing and he wanted more of her curves. Byleth seemed to feel the same way: she was rubbing herself on him hungrily. Without thinking about it, Ignatz pressed his leg between hers and she moaned, her eyes grateful as she rutted against him.

And, _Goddess_ did she look so undone. Her face was flushed, her hair wild, and the noises she was making…. Ignatz wanted to hear more of them: wanted her to stain her gorgeous lips with those profane sounds that were just for him. She was kissing his neck now, which made it really difficult for him to pull back, but pull back he did: he wanted to unmake her completely.

“Byleth?” Ignatz was surprised how challenging it was to ask what he wanted to ask. He looked away from her face. “I want to make you orgasm. H—how should I do that?” He glanced back at her, nervously.

Byleth’s eyelids were heavy, her eyes dark. “Are you okay with using your mouth?”

Okay with it! Ignatz was dying to taste her. He wanted to worship every inch of her body with every inch of his. He trembled a little as he nodded.

“Please. I’ve imagined my mouth on you so many times.”

At his words, Byleth let out another moan and started pulling her shirt over her head.

“Let me do that?” Ignatz offered.

Byleth nodded her consent and he eagerly took off her shirt, then worked at the clasp of her bra. For once, being dexterous rather than strong paid off, as Ignatz got her bra off quickly. He stopped for a second to stare at her breasts. He loved the softness of her body. How he wanted to paint her nude!

“Ignatz?” Byleth was gazing up at him.

Right. He wasn’t here just to soak in every inch of her skin. Ignatz quickly pulled off her shorts and rolled down her tights, exposing inch after tantalizing inch of pale leg. He leaned in to kiss the battle scars that aroused him so and Byleth squirmed.

Now she was naked below him. Ignatz suddenly felt very self-conscious. He should get undressed too, right? His cloak had fallen off at some point and he hadn’t even noticed. He unbuttoned and took off his top. Byleth reached a hand up to stroke his chest.

“You’re gorgeous,” she whispered. Ignatz blushed. “Take off your pants too?” Byleth asked, trying, and failing, to be coy.

Eagerly, he stood and lowered them, embarrassed Byleth was watching him struggle to get them off completely without tripping. Byleth must have found his clumsiness attractive, because she let out a long sigh and her eyes drank in his entire body.

“I like you in nothing but your glasses. It’s sexy.”

Ignatz wanted to hide, or run away, or wrap his arms around Byleth and never let her go, because she really liked him, didn’t she? She wasn’t faking it. Or, if she was faking it, she was excellent at faking the hungry look in her eyes, the tremble of her mouth, and the catch in her breath as she looked at him.

“I love you,” Ignatz said simply, crawling on top of her once more before lowering himself down to her legs, kissing one thigh then the other, until he reached the place where they met. Books and dirty pictures had given him some idea of how to do this, but Ignatz still felt incredibly nervous and, faced with the real thing, at a bit of a loss as to what to do next. He experimentally ran his tongue along the length of her and felt Byleth’s thighs tense.

“Here.” She moved her hand downward, rubbing her clit.

Ignatz nodded and circled his tongue where she indicated. He heard Byleth moan and felt her legs shake. She twined her fingers in his hair, holding him in place, and he continued, trying different movements. Based on the noises Byleth was making, she seemed to be enjoying his work. He had to admit he liked it too. He liked making her body tremble uncontrollably, liked feeling the pressure of her thighs, liked the taste of her.

He had fantasized about going down on Byleth so many times. Ignatz was ashamed by the number of war meetings where, instead of listening to whatever tactic everyone else was discussing, he had become desperately hard picturing himself crawling underneath the table to Byleth, pulling up her skirt, and sliding down her underwear. His cock would ache and he would have to cross one leg over the other as he imagined Byleth, midsentence about battalion movement, whining softly as he worked his mouth against her. He wanted her to stifle a cry as she came, and remain in her seat afterwards, unable to move for fear of someone noticing the pool of wetness she left behind.

Now, that same wetness coated the lower half of his face and the throbbing in Ignatz’ dick would be relieved by Byleth’s body, not by his hands after the war meeting ended.

Emboldened by his fantasy and the noises Byleth did not have to silence in her bedroom, Ignatz buried his head completely between her thighs, working his tongue enthusiastically against her clit.

“Oh, gentle,” Byleth said, exhaling sharply. “Softer, slower.”

Ignatz obliged, switching to lazy circles. Maybe he had been too excited. Briefly, he lifted his head to rest against Byleth’s leg, trying out his finger instead.

Byleth let out a soft hum. “That’s it. Light touches. You’re doing so well for your first time.”

Ignatz worked his finger against Byleth, relaxing on her body.

Byleth sighed, before twining her fingers in Ignatz’ hair again. This time, her grip was hard.

“I need your mouth on me.” Ignatz nodded and he felt Byleth roughly push his face between her legs once more. She placed her hands on the back of his head, holding him in place. Ignatz’ glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, hitting Byleth’s skin, but still, she didn’t let go. She was desperately wet and Ignatz was surprised how her aggressive treatment aroused him too.

Ignatz paused the movement of his tongue to try sucking her clit (more than a few erotic novels had suggested such an action) and was rewarded with a moan and a painfully sharp tug on his hair. Then, he quickened his pace with his mouth, pushing her legs back so he could better lap at her. He could hear Byleth panting, feel the way her thighs clenched and — oh — she bucked against his mouth as a soft sigh escaped her lips and she was tugging him up for a kiss. He could feel her body trembling against his and he pulled her close, holding her as she came down from her orgasm.

“I finished. Thank you,” she said softly, gazing at Ignatz with such love before pulling him back to her lips again. Ignatz wouldn’t have minded his face staying covered with her lubricant forever, but Byleth broke their kiss not a second later to grab a handkerchief off her side table.

“It’s clean.”

Ignatz took the handkerchief and was wiping off his face when he felt Byleth start stroking his cock. He dropped the handkerchief, now soiled with her wetness and his saliva and sweat, somewhere on the bed (Ignatz didn’t care where it went) and rested his forehead on Byleth’s neck, glasses hitting her collarbone as she continued to run her hand up and down his achingly hard length.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked, breath rasping against his ear. Ignatz shivered.

“I just want to be inside of you,” he mumbled into her skin. Ever so gently, Byleth pulled him completely on top of her, parted her legs, and guided him to where he should go.

“I’ll need you to pull out.”

He nodded against her. Of course. Pull out. Because he was about to be inside of her. This was their first time. He didn’t want to hurt her. Or get her pregnant. There were so many things that could go wrong. But Byleth was writhing below him and her hand was still wrapped around his cock and all the fear in his mind was drowned out by want. He could feel her against him, warm and wet, could feel himself throb with yearning, and then Byleth was thrusting up, taking his tip into her. A noise escaped Byleth’s mouth that sounded like a cross between a sigh and a moan and all Ignatz knew in that moment was he wanted to spend the rest of his life hearing Byleth make those noises. He tried thrusting himself. Byleth was incredibly tight around him and he heard her sighs turn into whimpers. 

“I’ll go slowly, my love,” Ignatz said soothingly. “Just tell me if you need me to stop.” Byleth clutched hard at his back.

“I can take it,” Byleth panted. She had been wet to the point of dripping earlier and the lubrication made it easier now, despite her being a virgin. He took her ever-so-slightly deeper with each movement, until he found himself buried all the way inside of her. He felt Byleth’s hands unclench a little against him.

“You can fuck me now.” Hearing his Goddess say such lewd words for him almost made Ignatz come in that moment. He moved in her and marveled at how wet and tight and perfect she felt. He was honored to lose his virginity to a woman as stunning as her. He hoped hers was the only body he ever entered. The thought of belonging to Byleth so completely made the heat in Ignatz’ gut grow and he thrust as deep as he could into Byleth, wanting to lose his body in hers.

Ignatz leaned down, grazing her ear with his lips. “Thank you for letting a lowly acolyte like me worship you in this way, my Goddess.”

Byleth stroked his cheek. “You have been so good in your service to me,” she whispered. “The Goddess rewards those who devote themselves to Her. And you, Ignatz, I want you to devote all of you to me.”

“I am. I have. My body, my soul is yours.” His movements were getting uneven now, his breath shaky: he was close. Byleth ran her hands down his back, scratching him lightly.

“Then, will you come for your Goddess? Show Her the full extent of your devotion?”

Ignatz nodded weakly. A moan laced with her name broke from his lips like a prayer. His back arched and he remembered to pull out, pumping himself a few times before spilling on her breasts. It took a moment for Ignatz’ vision to return, but when it did, he caught sight of Byleth’s body below him through crooked and smudged glasses. He had never seen her look more divine. The light from her window made it appear as though she were glowing. The only worldly aspect of her visage was his semen, dripping on her chest. This was how he wanted to paint her: the ethereal nature of her beauty contrasted with the debased way he had spilled on her.

“Ignatz,” Byleth said, “there are some towels in the bottom drawer of my desk.”

“Oh, sorry!” He jumped off her quickly, grabbed the towels, and began to clean her.

Byleth only laughed. “I don’t mind you admiring me, but I didn’t realized how sticky this would be.”

Once Ignatz finished cleaning Byleth, she pulled him into bed again, turning on her side so he could ease in behind her. Ignatz loved the nonsexual feeling of her naked body against his. Lying in his arms, Byleth sighed. Ignatz kissed her ear gently, mummering to her.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe you could love someone like me. I’m still waiting to wake up.”

“Do you not think you’re handsome?” Byleth turned to face Ignatz, frowning.

“Well…” he began weakly. Byleth turned him around, so she was the one doing the holding now and spoke into his neck.

“I think you’re the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.” Ignatz couldn’t stop the smile that alighted on his face. Could she really love someone like him? With no title and no crest and no courage to stand up to his own parents? There was no way that was true, and yet… Byleth sounded so earnest. She ran her hands over his chest, kissing his hair, his neck and Ignatz was beginning to believe, if only a little, that she wasn’t lying: she loved him.

They lay tangled together, drowsy. Ignatz loved feeling the rise and fall of her chest against his back and the gentle kisses she planted on the nape of his neck every so often. Ignatz removed his glasses and placed them on her bedside table. He had almost drifted off to sleep when he felt Byleth stiffen.

“We’ve completely missed lunch.”

Lunch? Ignatz had forgotten it was even daytime.

“I guess so.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Byleth said, kissing his neck.

For a second, the spell was broken and in the back of his mind the never-ending parade of worries began to dance once more: he could never support her as an artist, he could barely protect her as a knight. His parents had been right— but Byleth took him once more in her arms and his thoughts were drowned out by her earthy scent and warm hands. Ignatz turned to face her again and kissed her soundly on the mouth.

“I have all I need right here.”


	9. Chapter 9

“Here,” Byleth said triumphantly as she grabbed a box of cookies and some Morfis plums out of her bag, “this should hold us until dinner.”

The lovemaking that had occurred not two hours ago was already beginning to feel like a distant dream to Byleth. Since getting dressed and moving into the hot spring afternoon of the present and not the dreamy world of the bedroom, Byleth’s thoughts had quickly turned back to… everything, really: the war, her responsibilities, the danger she would have to place Ignatz in every day for the foreseeable future. Still, Byleth felt her heart flutter whenever she locked eyes with Ignatz. He would gaze at Byleth for long intervals of time, a smile on his face. She knew soon she would have to break the spell he was under. She wanted it to last, if only for a moment longer.

So, Byleth busied herself finding food and Ignatz set to work trying to get his hair, which got gotten mussed up during sex, neat. He had missed a spot with her comb and his hair stuck up a little. It was endearing, Byleth decided. She would say nothing.

Besides, she couldn’t ignore the other things they needed to discuss much longer. Byleth chewed the side of her lip nervously. She wished they could be lovers in a kinder world, but in this one, they would be marching for Fort Merceus soon. Byleth couldn’t predict how many sleepy afternoons she would have to share. She met Ignatz’ eyes and couldn’t help but return his soft stare. Goddess, she could lose an hour just looking at him... but, no, they had to talk.

“Ignatz,” she began. He jumped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay!” Ignatz said happily. “I can’t stop thinking about um, well, you know. That was nice.” He took Byleth’s hand and kissed her fingers. “My world is so much brighter with you as my lover.”

“Mine too.” She couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across her lips. This was bad. Byleth was grateful feelings of love had avoided her in her early years: how did anyone get anything done when they had someone to call theirs! “You should know… I can’t make promises right now. You mentioned rings and wanting to be mine forever. As lovely as that sounds, I can’t take that kind of step at the moment.”

Ignatz’ face visibly fell, but he tried to sound understanding.

“Of course. I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean that we should get— I mean, I’m happy just being in your life, and, uh,” and then he totally shattered. “You don’t want to break up, do you?” Behind his glasses, Ignatz’ eyes looked so mournful. Lysithea had described them as ‘sad puppy-dog eyes.’ Being the target of his hurt gaze broke Byleth’s heart. 

“Ignatz,” Byleth grabbed his hand, bringing it to her lips, “I want to be your lover. I’m just not in a position to be your wife anytime soon.”

Ignatz took a shaky breath. “Of course. I’m happy being your lover too. I honestly didn’t mean to mention rings.” He laughed nervously and Byleth got the distinct feeling he was not telling the truth. “Please, forget I said anything.”

Byleth nodded. Yes, it would be best to forget. That was easier said than done when she felt her heart leap out of her chest at the idea of his ring on her finger. She chewed her lip again.

“Is that all, my love? You still look distressed.” Ignatz broke her train of thought.

Byleth sighed, “I’m not sure how much time I’ll have to devote to you—”

“Please, don’t worry about it.” Ignatz squeezed her hand. “Any second with you is precious to me, even if it is only a second.”

“I’m up late most nights.”

“As long as you eventually make your way to my bed.”

Byleth blushed, then let out another sigh. “I wanted to apologize again for hanging your painting in the hall. I didn’t think about your feelings in the matter.” Byleth hoped her expression portrayed her remorse. “I can take it down, if you’d like.”

Ignatz frowned. “Taking it down seems fruitless. I’m sure everyone’s seen it.”

“You’re still mad.”

Ignatz shrugged. “Considering we’re in the middle of a war and starting a new relationship, this isn’t that big of a deal. It does bother me you didn’t think to ask first. You’re usually so considerate of my feelings, which is part of why it’s frustrating and also part of why I’m willing to let it go.” He squeezed Byleth’s hand and gave her a small smile.

Byleth returned his smile and rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. “On a lighter note, are you okay with telling our friends about us?”

“Of course!” Ignatz said, a little too eagerly.

Byleth’s eyes narrowed. _Of course._ Every student wanted to be the one who won over the professor. Ignatz must have caught the implication.

“I mean,” Ignatz backtracked, “I’m not sure I’ll be able to hide it from them.” He sighed, the cloud of love descending over him again. “When I see you, I can’t help but stare.” At this, he stood, closing the space between them before kissing the top of Byleth’s head.

Okay, she could forgive him for being a little excited to show off to his former classmates that he was the one who had bedded their beloved teacher. It was obvious he loved her and would have loved her, even if she wasn’t also the target of half her students’ affections.

“I’m okay with telling everyone too.”

Byleth allowed herself a moment of leaning against Ignatz. She loved the feeling of his body against hers. Just leaning against his clothed chest made her stomach tighten in the most enchanting way. And, they had been so, so close earlier. Byleth felt dizzy when she remembered Ignatz inside of her. Which reminded her…

“I need to speak with Manuela.”

“Oh?” Ignatz looked at her, concerned. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I wanted to talk to her about ways to prevent pregnancy.”

Ignatz blushed and nervously fiddled with his glasses. “That would be useful. Should I come too? This seems like something both of us should think about.”

Ignatz’ offer was sweet and Byleth did want him to come along, but Manuela had a habit of insulting Byleth, accidentally or otherwise. That, coupled with Ignatz’ obvious nervousness about the topic led Byleth to believe she should go alone. She shook her head.

“Okay. But, ask her if there’s anything I can do! I don’t want you taking all the responsibility.” Byleth loved Ignatz’ earnestness. She squeezed his hand and then made to stand.

“I’ll let you know what she says.”

* * *

Manuela was neither sober nor alone when Byleth arrived. As Byleth walked in the room, she was greeted with the scent of wine and the loud giggles of Dorothea and Linhardt who tried, and failed, to hide their glasses from their professor.

“Enter stage left, our glorious Professor!” Dorothea shouted, flinging her hands out and hitting Linhardt square on the chest. The pair couldn’t stop giggling.

“Byleth! Join us,” Manuela made to hand her a glass, but Byleth shook her head, her mouth downturned. “You’re mad.”

“I need to talk to you, Manuela. Privately.”

“Oh, privately,” Manuela winked. “What is it? Did that little nerdy boy knock you up?”

Dorothea perked up. “Wait, what? Professor, who is she talking about? Did I miss something?”

Next to her, Linhardt mimed shock. “Little nerdy boy?” he deadpanned. “I hope it’s not me: I’m not ready to be a father.” At this, he and Dorothea collapsed once more into laughter.

Byleth would ask Mercedes about birth control. She turned on her heel to leave when Manuela spoke up.

“Okay, we’ve had our fun at the professor’s expense. Out, you two. Go find us some coffee.” Dorothea and Linhardt opened their mouths to protest, but Manuela shut them down with a glare. “Out.”

Byleth watched with concern as Dorothea and Linhardt stumbled out the door.

“Will they be okay on their own?”

“Oh, they’re just being silly: we didn’t drink that much.” Manuela held up the bottle and, true to her word, it was only half full. “We like to have a little fun when we can. Sit down.” She motioned to her chair. “And— Hey!” she shouted, “No listening at the door!”

Byleth heard Dorothea and Linhardt’s giggles fade as they took off down the hall. Once she was sure they were out of earshot, Manuela turned her attention back to Byleth.

“I am sorry for teasing you, but they’re having a hard time. I try to do all I can to make them forget the war. Dorothea comes to me crying almost daily. Linhardt would never admit it, but he’s really struggling. I hear him working with Hanneman until three in the morning. They’re trying to take crests out of people. Or put them in. I don’t pretend to understand it, but they feel as if they could end the war without bloodshed if they took crests out of the equation. They’ve been working themselves near to death on this project.”

Manuela shook her head. “When he’s not working with Hanneman, I see Linhardt pacing the halls, mumbling to himself, or I find him sleeping against the wall outside of Hanneman’s office. So, I’ve started pulling him into my office for some…” she glanced at the wine bottle, “tea. He’s a very funny boy, you know. Never fails to make me laugh.” Manuela’s eyes sparkled with tears that she quickly wiped away. “They’ve both lost so much.”

Byleth sighed. She wished Manuela hadn’t joked at her expense, but it was true: everyone was hurting, and none were struggling more than her former Black Eagle students. They had given up everything for… what? Claude’s dreams over Edelgard’s? She made a mental note to do something special with each of her Black Eagle kids.

“So, what did you want from me? You aren’t really pregnant, are you?” Manuela asked.

Byleth shook her head. “No, but we would like to avoid it.”

“So, you two are together?” Byleth nodded and Manuela grinned. “I knew it. That boy looks at you like you hung the moon. You might be on to something here. I always went for the tall, emotionally-distant types. But, once the initial spark faded, they’d leave me for a younger model. Maybe the issue was the type of men I was dating. Dorky guys might be a better option… Say, do you think Linhardt’s single?”

The look of horror on Byleth’s face caused Manuela to laugh. Byleth frowned.

“I’m joking,” Manuela said. Byleth wasn’t sure she was. “Anyways, here.”

Manuela stood up and walked over to her cabinet, opening the top draw to pull out a container of tea leaves.

“Drinking this tea every day will prevent pregnancy. Try to drink it around the same time each day, but don’t stress if you’re a little off. It works right away, so you two can have all the fun you want tonight.” She handed Byleth the container. Byleth’s frown remained. “What is it?”

“Resources are scarce during the war. How do you have so much to give me? Don’t others need it?”

Manuela smiled and wagged a finger, “I don’t know how, but Anna always has a full stock of this for those who know to ask. We have to look out for each other, especially in these times.” Finally, Byleth smiled. “There, see, all happy now. I’ll make sure I pick up some more tea for you each month, so stop by when you run out and keep me updated on how your relationship is going.” Manuela said with a wink. “I really think you’ve figured something out here, dating a nerdy man…”

Byleth stood before Manuela could go on. “Thanks.”

“Come by anytime. Don’t get so wrapped up with your new man that you forget about your friends!”

Byleth was very glad she hadn’t brought Ignatz along. When she left Manuela’s office, Dorothea and Linhardt were back in the hallway, holding cups of coffee. Although they seemed to have sobered up just fine without them.

“Ooh, you do have a boyfriend!” Dorothea said, entirely too excited. “We’ve narrowed it down to Ashe or Ignatz—”

“I suggested it might be Bernadetta. Perhaps Manuela thought she was a boy,” Linhardt chimed in.

“Lin, someday you’ll have to explain to me how your brain works.”

“I have told you many times how all brains work. You always get bored and wander away.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Linhardt shook his head. “This is not the point. We were talking about… what was the point again?”

“The professor’s sex life.”

“Ah yes. Professor, how are you enjoying sex?” Linhardt peered at Byleth. “I’ve always wondered if crests impact physical enjoyment. Let me know if you experience anything that seems out of the ordinary.”

Byleth very much wanted to leave this conversation.

“I’m dating Ignatz,” she replied curtly. She wasn’t going to touch the question about sex.

Dorothea and Linhardt spoke at the same time.

“How sweet!”

“That’s exciting. He doesn’t have a crest. That makes for a great treatment vs control study. Of course, the sample size would be low, but, depending on the amount of sex you have, repetitions would be high. Still, any inference could be spurious.”

Byleth slipped away, catching the tail end of their conversation.

“You owe me five gold.”

“I should have guessed betting on Bernadetta was a bad idea.”

* * *

Ignatz’ bed smelled like him. Byleth never realized how comforting a scent could be. Even though she was alone on the bed, Ignatz being occupied with finishing a sketch of Raphael he had promised the other man to complete, Byleth felt almost as good as she did in Ignatz’ arms. Almost.

“I really hope Raphael likes this.” Ignatz said, not looking up from the drawing. “I know he’s really excited to show his sister how strong he is now.”

Byleth propped herself up. “I’m pretty sure _I_ could draw the picture and Raphael would be pleased with it.”

Ignatz laughed. “I suppose you’re right. I really want to make him happy. Speaking of which, I should tell him about us. He’s been my best friend for so many years, I would hate for him to hear it secondhand.”

Ignatz drew contentedly for another moment. Byleth was about to close her eyes and go back to resting when she saw Ignatz’ shoulders stiffen. He put his pencil down, although he said nothing.

She stood and stroked his back. Ignatz leaned his head against her arm.

“Sorry. Did I worry you? I realized I’ll need to tell my parents about us too. It’s nothing, really. I shouldn’t let it bother me so much.”

Byleth planted a kiss on Ignatz’ forehead. “You don’t have to tell them. I don’t mind.”

“No, I should. They’re not mean. Not like some of our friends’ parents. They’ll probably really like you… I’ll write them later.” Ignatz did not sound very convincing.

“Talk to me.” Byleth squeezed his shoulders again. “I want to help. You can’t tell them you’re in a relationship and I get the feeling you still can’t tell them you want to be an artist either. So, what do we do?”

Ignatz sighed. “Please, don’t worry about it. My parents are hard to talk to. Maybe it’s because I’m the youngest in my family, but they don’t take me seriously. They think they know what’s best for me. I mean, they’re usually right: after all, artists don’t typically earn that much money…”

Ignatz’ gaze dropped and he was quiet for a moment. “You know, I don’t want to be an artist, but I do want to be with you. ”

Gently, Byleth pulled him in for a kiss. When they broke apart, she looked at him fondly. “Ignatz, I’ve been watching you draw for half an hour now and I’ve never seen you happier. You don’t need your parents’ permission to be an artist. Money alone shouldn’t be a consideration. We’re in this together now. I can help.”

Ignatz said nothing for a while. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Ignatz, you’re not asking: I’m offering.”

“I don’t deserve you.” At his words, Byleth frowned. Seeing her expression, Ignatz sighed and leaned against Byleth. “Okay, I’ll… think about talking to them.”

“That’s the first step. I’ll be with you the whole way.” Byleth leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of Ignatz’ head, then tilted his head up so she could graze his lips with hers. She could feel him smile against her. “Now, when are you going to draw me again?”

“Whenever you want!” Ignatz said, happily. Byleth internally praised herself for thinking of the two things that would get Ignatz’ mind off his anxieties about his family: kissing and painting. “I am always willing to draw you. You’re probably going to get sick of it after a while.”

Byleth smiled: she doubted that.

“Actually, the lighting in here is fantastic now. I have a few more things to do on this Raphael sketch and then I’d love to outline you. Wherever and however you want.”

Byleth knew exactly how she wanted to be sketched. Once Ignatz was preoccupied with putting the finishing touches on his other work, she quietly slipped out of her clothes and settled herself on the bed again (little stealth was required: when Ignatz was working, he was lost to the world). She tried to arrange herself to look as sexy as possible, turning her hips so her ass stuck out, arranging her hair just so. And then she waited.

The expression on Ignatz’ face was worth the wait. He nearly fell out of his chair.

“You’re—”

“Don’t be so coy,” Byleth interrupted, “I know you’ve thought about this.”

“No- I- ! ” Ignatz stammered.

“ _I’ve_ thought about this.” She said with a wink and Ignatz exhaled.

“Really?”

“Ignatz, I have fantasized a lot about you. You drawing me naked is one of my more innocent fantasies: I’ve imagined you fucking me in every corner of the monastery, in every hole of my body. Now, please, I want you to draw me.”

Ignatz’ eyes widened even more and all of his visible skin turned red, but he eagerly picked up his sketchbook and pencil. Ignatz, Byleth noticed, liked to play shy, but took very little prompting to do very dirty things with her. They’d have to try out those different places and different holes fantasies of hers soon.

As Ignatz got to work, Byleth was struck by an idea.

“Want to bathe together after dinner? You made me really sticky earlier.”

Ignatz reddened again. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, I liked it.”

Ignatz looked at Byleth, his eyes full of distress. “Please, let me work.”

Byleth smiled a little. “What are you working on now?”

“I told you, I need to focus!”

“You’re drawing my breasts, aren’t you? You’ve spent a long time on them.”

Ignatz’ blush deepened and he put down his pencil. “You’re suddenly really talkative: do you want me to draw you or not?”

Byleth laughed.

Thankfully, Ignatz laughed a little too. “A bath later sounds really nice.”

* * *

They had gotten an early dinner, thankfully avoiding their friends. Byleth wasn’t always fond of the scrutiny of her gossip-hungry students and was worried too much talk might make Ignatz shut down and draw into himself. But soon, they were cuddled up in the bath together. It was amusing to watch Ignatz alternate between pointedly looking away from her breasts and staring openly at them, before catching himself and looking away again.

“You weren’t so shy about touching or looking at my breasts earlier,” she remarked, before gently taking his hands and rested them on her chest. Ignatz looked at her, in shock at first, and then a smile graced his face as he ran his fingers across her.

“I want to take up sculpting: there’s no other way I’ll ever be able to capture you otherwise.” Ignatz’ glasses were getting wet and a little fogged up. She motioned to them.

“I don’t typically wear these in the bath but—” he blushed, hands dropping from Byleth’s breasts, “—I wanted to make sure I could see you.”

Byleth smiled fondly before picking his hands back up and placing them once more against her breasts. Ignatz’ blush deepened, but he didn’t pull his hands away. Instead, with a very determined look on his face, he worked at one of her nipples, before leaning in to take it in his mouth. Byleth inhaled sharply and looked down at him, meeting his eyes.

“Don’t start that if you’re not willing to go all the way.” In response, he sucked harder, before moving his mouth up her breast to lick eagerly at the water droplets running down her shoulders, arms, and neck.

“This isn’t helping me get less sticky,” Byleth remarked wryly, squirming under Ignatz’ mouth. She leaned back against the side of the tub, running her fingers through his damp olive-green hair. His glasses were completely fogged over now: not that Ignatz, who was fervently kissing her collarbone, noticed. Suddenly, he sat up.

“Can I touch you again?”

Byleth nodded. “The water tends to wash off any lubrication, so just keep your fingers outside.” The eager way his mouth had worked at her skin had left her pussy hot and throbbing. If Ignatz hadn’t suggested it, Byleth would have placed his hand between her legs anyways.

Ignatz beamed at her, beckoning for Byleth to move so he could lay against the back of the tub and pulled her onto his chest. “I honestly can’t believe I get to do this.” Both arms wrapped around Byleth, holding her against him, as his right hand slipped between her legs. She squirmed in Ignatz’ grasp and let out a small sigh as his finger circled her clit.

“Does that feel good?” The question was less sensual and more earnest. Byleth nodded and Ignatz pressed a kiss against her wet hair as she whimpered.

His touch was awkward: Byleth had always found touching herself in the bath to be challenging, and Ignatz’ hand was still unsure. But, he was by no means _bad_ at pleasuring her. Besides, the feeling of Ignatz’ pounding heart against her back and his strong arms, toned from years of using the bow, holding her fast heightened Byleth’s pleasure.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined touching you.” Ignatz whispered in her ear, quickening his pace with his finger. “How long I’ve spent fantasizing about you using my body however you want to use it.” Byleth whimpered at his words, her legs trembling. She knew Ignatz wasn’t lying, and the thought of him stroking himself to the idea of her coming made the heat already pooling in the base of her stomach grow.

She jolted against him, causing Ignatz to tighten his hold. His touch against her clit was light and fast and he had settled into a pleasing rhythm. Byleth enjoyed squirming in Ignatz’ grasp, trying to see how tightly she could get him to press her against his chest. Byleth felt the bridge of his glasses hit the back of her head and his breath on her neck as he let out a shaky sigh. 

She was so close now: Ignatz’ touch was heavenly. She had no idea how he’d gotten so good, so fast, but his strokes against her were now as sure and skilled as his brush strokes on canvas. Byleth bucked against him, Ignatz’ arms digging into her stomach, and came, her clit becoming sensitive under his touch. Ignatz was unrelenting, rubbing her through her orgasm. She throbbed under his hand, savoring the pleasure and pain from the overstimulation. Finally, she begged, voice barely audible.

“No more.”

Ignatz drew back his arms and kissed her hair over and over.

“Did you enjoy that?” Again, the question was so earnest, Byleth almost laughed. Did she enjoy that? Surely he could feel how her heart still pounded, how her legs still trembled. Byleth twisted in the water, bringing her lips to meet Ignatz’, before pulling back to mutter a single command.

“Out,” she ordered.

Ignatz looked confused, so Byleth stood, sending rivulets of water down her body and motioned for Ignatz to stand as well. She carefully led him out of the tub. Once the risk of slipping had passed, Byleth took hold of both his wrists, pushing him roughly against the wall. Ignatz’ face shown confusion until she sank to her knees in front of him, barely registering the smack of her knees on the wood floor of the bathroom, at which point he turned a bright red.

“Are you up for this?” Byleth asked, vaguely remembering overhearing from a bawdy fellow mercenary something about men needing more recovery time than women, before Jeralt had silenced him with a cutting look.

Ignatz nodded, still red, fixing his brown eyes — obscured by fogged and water-spattered glasses — at a point somewhere behind Byleth’s head. However, when Byleth wrapped one arm around his waist, propping the other on the floor to keep her steady, and took his cock in her mouth, he looked down at her, more in shock than anything else.

“Y-you don’t have to do this,” he stammered. Byleth met his eyes, fixing him with an intense gaze, before turning her attention back to his dick. She wasn’t totally sure if she was doing the right thing, but something seemed to be working because Ignatz was reacting. She liked the feeling of him hardening in her mouth.

She glanced up at him again: he was still unwilling to look at her and had clamped his hands over his mouth, stifling moans. Byleth reached up, wobbling a little on her knees, to grab his arms and bring them to her hair. Ignatz twined his fingers through her hair and, cautiously, looked down at her. At the sight of his professor on her knees, mouth working eagerly up and down his length, he let out a shuddering breath and pulled, hard, at her hair.

Goddess, Byleth liked that. She met his eyes again. Ignatz’ embarrassment had been replaced by excitement and she could feel his muscles strain as he tried to hold back from thrusting into her wet mouth. Byleth was glad: she loved the sweet Ignatz, but she was equally excited by the merciless side of him she had seen before on the battlefield.

She was also enjoying having a dick in her mouth. She liked running her tongue over its head and didn’t mind the slight salty taste of his precum. Byleth could feel the heat pooling inside her as her arousal grew again. Kneeling on the ground, using her hands to stabilize herself and Ignatz, she couldn’t exactly touch herself. She pulled her head back, spit still connecting her mouth and the head of his cock. Ignatz whined at the loss of contact.

“I’m sorry,” Byleth panted, voice hoarse, “I need you inside of me. If you’re up for it.” She glanced around the room, spotting the chair they had rested their clothing on. Byleth moved the clothes to a little shelf, scrunching them up in the process, but she didn’t care. She spread one of their towels down on the chair and motioned for Ignatz to sit. He obliged, looking dazed, so Byleth repeated the question, trying to be clearer in her intent.

“Can I ride you?”

Ignatz nodded: he looked a mess. His face was flushed, his hair out of place, his glasses stained with the smudges the water had left. Byleth liked seeing him so ruined, but what she liked most was the sight of his cock, still hard, wet with her spit and his precum.

“I won’t be able to last very long,” he added, shyly.

Byleth nodded. She didn’t care — she just needed something to quench her pussy’s throbbing.

“And I can… inside of you?” Ignatz looked so hopeful and Byleth nodded once more. Ignatz’ sweet expression turned devilish and he reached for Byleth’s hips, pulling her to him, helping her straddle his lap.

The erotica she had been reading fervently in the months since she had awoken always made being on top sound so easy, but Byleth had difficulty finding the best angle to get his dick inside of her, and then, once he was inside, adjusting her angle to find a pleasurable spot. Her movements were a little awkward, but when she sank down on him, Ignatz whined, his hands sliding up from her hips to rest on her breasts.

Byleth rode him as hard as she could, using Ignatz’ dick to slake her own need. The Ignatz of reality was less passive than the Ignatz of her fantasies and, before long, she felt him thrusting up against her. Fuck, he was good. He hit the spot Byleth had found herself over and over until she felt her second orgasm tear through her in waves. It felt so good to come around his cock.

Weak, Byleth let Ignatz fuck her body, his thrusts getting deeper and more desperate, his hands making their way to her back to better pull her down onto him.

“Oh, Byleth,” he sputtered, voice huskier than she had ever heard it. Byleth felt his hands clench against her and a warm heat inside of her as he filled her. Ignatz fell forward, his head hitting her shoulder. Byleth could feel his heart pounding and let Ignatz pant against her for a second.

After a moment, Byleth stood, her body still shaking a little. Her arousal gone, she now realized they had completely failed at her initial goal of getting clean. If anything, she was dirtier than ever: she hadn’t anticipated the semen running down her leg, nor the slightly uncomfortable wetness left by what was still inside of her. Ignatz was staring at her, eyes glazed over.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, um, yeah!” He shook his head. “I think I love you more and more each second. You are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.”

Byleth wondered wryly if he might say that about anyone who made him come twice in one day, but she didn’t want to tease: seeing Ignatz look so happy and worry free was worth anything. She leaned down to kiss his forehead. He turned his face to her, meeting her lips instead.

“Okay, let’s actually get clean this time.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the risk of being overly cautious, I want to give the heads up that this chapter talks about slight body insecurities, amps up the gentle femdom and Goddess role play, talks about student/teacher relationships again, and makes a passing reference to, but does not detail, role play reluctant sex.

Ignatz’ list of most beautiful things now began and ended with Byleth. He had watched her sleep for some time that morning, having woken up before the sun, and felt he would never get enough of her hair against the pillow or the rise and fall of her chest or the flutter of her eyelashes. The last day had been amazing, more than anything Ignatz ever dared to believe would happen to him. He wanted to savor each moment with his new love. 

As the minutes ticked on, however, Ignatz felt the familiar itch to draw her. Unfortunately, his sketchbook was in his room. His room was nearby: perhaps he could run there and back without waking Byleth? Quietly, Ignatz climbed out of bed, feeling a tug in his heart when he saw the sleeping Byleth reach out for him and grab a pillow instead. Despite his heart wishing to curl up next to Byleth again, his hand was dying to outline her form on paper. Ignatz threw on his tunic and pants, leaving his cloak hanging up, and left the room as silently as possible.

He hadn’t expected to see anyone, considering the predawn sky was only a little pink in the east. But, then again, he didn’t spend much time thinking about Sylvain’s nightly adventures. Ignatz had just passed Ashe’s room when Sylvain somehow spotted him from all the way down at the greenhouse and came bounding over.

“Hey, look at you!” Sylvain held out his hand for a high five and Ignatz tentatively obliged him. “I’ve been hoping you’d get laid: glad to see it finally happened.”

Ignatz frowned. “How do you know I’m not taking a walk?”

“Because I am an expert at the morning after. Crumpled clothes, messed up hair, and you missed a few buttons on your shirt. The real tell is your smile. She must’ve been pretty good.”

Ignatz blushed and looked away. Sylvain gave Ignatz a little punch on the shoulder.

“See, called it! Except…” Ignatz watched as Sylvain surveyed the three dorms between the sauna and where they stood now. Sylvain’s eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. “There’s no way. I mean, you and…”

Ignatz felt too embarrassed to hear Sylvain say it. “Yes? Um, yes.”

“Well, okay then! I have to admit, I’m a little surprised, but I’m super happy for you two. You both seem so anxious all the time: I figured sex might help with that. I just didn’t expect it to be with each other. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” Sylvain held up his hands defensively. 

Ignatz really wanted to leave this conversation. “Thanks? I should be going.” He gestured at his room.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I’m dying to know, though: who’s on top? Not trying to pry, but I can’t even begin to guess.”

What a strange question. Then again, Ignatz never really talked about sex with anyone, so maybe it was normal.

“Well… I guess we both tried it out?” Should he even be talking about this? Byleth might get mad at him for talking about their personal business with Sylvain of all people.

“More than once? Nice.” Sylvain winked. “Though, I didn’t realize you liked dudes.”

“I don’t?” Talking about sex with other men was weird.

A new expression dawned on Sylvain’s face. “That would explain the sneaking out before dawn. But, listen, experimenting is normal. Those green eyes and freckles make me question some things too.”

Sylvain looked dreamily into space at the last part of the sentence. Ignatz would figure out what was going on there later. For now, his blush deepened. Sylvain’s questions suddenly made sense. Ignatz didn’t want to stop and wonder at the implications that, of the two people whose dorms he passed, (Dedue being Goddess-knew-where) Sylvain decided Ashe was the more realistic partner for Ignatz.

“Oh! Um! I’m not with Ashe! I’m with the professor.”

Sylvain let out a low whistle. “You’re kidding! I thought she was totally un-wooable. Trust me, I have tried.”

“I am aware,” Ignatz said darkly.

“And I’ll stop from here on out. No more flirting with the professor. She is all yours.” Sylvain laced his arms behind his head. “You and the professor. Wow! And you said she was on top? Wow!” Ignatz should have bolted when Sylvain first spotted him.

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate you leaving her alone,” Ignatz muttered, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.

“Woah, okay, I will really back off. Like, won’t even glance in her direction.”

Ignatz hadn’t meant to come across as possessive. It was simply that months of watching Sylvain hit on the target of his affection had grated on him a little.

Still, Ignatz just shrugged at him. “Who she talks to isn’t my decision to make.” Sylvain was eyeing Ignatz warily all the same. It was time to make his escape. “Okay, I’ll see you later?”

“For sure,” Sylvain said cheerily, as if their awkward exchange about Byleth had never occurred. Ignatz could hear Sylvain talking to himself as he walked away though. “I need to start painting more women.”

Ignatz grabbed his sketchbook and some charcoal pencils and quickly made his way back to Byleth’s room. He briefly paused at Ashe’s door to consider writing an anonymous note saying that, if he was interested in men, Sylvain seemed more than a little curious, but shook his head at the idea. Firstly, Ignatz would never be so bold. Secondly, he felt Ashe could do better.

Thankfully, Byleth was still sleeping when Ignatz returned. Eagerly, he picked up his pencil and began to sketch, tracing the lines of her face and the curves of her body onto the paper. In the dim pre-dawn light, he couldn’t see all of her, but it was a fun challenge to capture what he could.

He drew for a while, until the sun began to shine through Byleth’s window and she stirred on the bed. Sleepily, she raised her head to stare at Ignatz. He put down his sketchbook, for the first time in his life feeling as if he had drawn enough, removed him glasses, and joined her. She rolled to her side so he could hold her and Ignatz let out a contented sigh.

“We fit so well on the bed together,” Byleth murmured sleepily. Despite the innocent nature of her remark, Ignatz felt an unpleasant squeeze in his heart. They fit well together… because he was so small. Byleth hadn’t mentioned anything about it yet, but he kept waiting for her to comment on his height — or the size of anything else about him. He had been naked with Raphael before, sharing tents, bathing on the road. He knew where he stood. But, Byleth never made any comments about his size anywhere. He shouldn’t mention it, he shouldn’t say anything, he should just enjoy having his drowsy lover in his arms—

“Does it bother you that I’m practically your height?” Ignatz asked, unable to stop himself.

Byleth looked over her shoulder at him, eyes still heavy with sleep. “It bothers me that people like to refer to you as small. I can see how that would make you feel bad.”

“But does it bother _you_ that I am short?”

Byleth rubbed her eyes and fixed him with her characteristic blank stare, which sometimes frightened Ignatz.

“No.” She turned around again, pressed her bottom into the front of his pants, and ground against him. Ignatz forgot about his self-consciousness and instead started worrying about how often she was going to accidentally arouse him. He drew back from her, but Byleth moved back further, to rub her bottom so deliciously against him again. The cloth of his pants grew tighter against his groin and Ignatz pulled back more, until he found himself awkwardly falling off the bed. Byleth turned over on her side and fixed her eyes directly at his cock, now obvious through his pants.

“I am rather _fond_ of your size.”

Had she been trying to turn him on? Ignatz wasn’t sure how many times Byleth would want to have sex in a 24 hour period, but he would oblige her until he was at his physical limit.

Although, didn’t Byleth usually train in the morning?

“I think I can skip my morning training session today,” Byleth said, as if reading his mind. “I want to try something with you.” Her eyes trailed downward. “It looks like you’re up for it.”

Ignatz wondered what happened to the professor who, all those years ago, so sweetly helped him shoot a bow, so respectfully tended to his wounds after a battle, and so maturely resolved conflicts between Ignatz and his classmates. He never would have imagined, (except in his fantasies, which always seemed very unrealistic) the hungry way her eyes roamed his body.

“What do you want to try?” Ignatz asked, feeling his skin grow hot. He hadn’t gotten used to the way Byleth looked at him, as if he were someone not just to be desired, but to be devoured. He had seen other people look at their lovers in such a manner, but never, ever in his life had Ignatz assumed someone would look at him like that.

“You think of me as the Goddess, right?” Byleth’s voice was low. Ignatz’ mouth went dry. He nodded. Byleth smiled. “And, you reacted very well when I pretended to be Her yesterday. It’s a bit… well, we had better keep this our secret, but I’d like to do that again. If you’re okay with it.”

And Ignatz forgot how to breathe.

Byleth stood and made her way over to him, letting her fingers trail across his chest. “You have to let me know: is this okay with you? I wasn’t raised going to church, it doesn’t bother me. But you probably thought you would get struck down for having such thoughts.” She leaned in closer, breath hot on his ear. “Or, is that what made them so fun?”

Ignatz had never heard Byleth speak so much. The fuzzy, half thought came to him that this must mean she felt comfortable around him, but it was quickly drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears and down to his cock.

“Yes,” he managed to rasp, “you can refer to yourself as…” Ignatz couldn’t quite get it out.

“We’ll start slow today: I know I’m surprising you with this. Also, I know it’s only a little after dawn, but the mornings are when I’m most excited. When I used to think of you the most.” Byleth trailed her tongue around the outside of his ear.

Ignatz wasn’t sure if he wanted to come or pass out or remind Byleth that they had just woken up and the war meeting was in an hour and they’d already had sex twice in the last twenty four hours and this was ridiculous. In lieu of each of those options, he whimpered. Byleth brushed her lips from his ear to his temple.

“I need to know your fantasies. Does the Goddess take you? Or, do you corrupt Her?”

“Both… either… um….” Byleth was making it hard to think. “You be in charge.”

Byleth pressed a kiss to Ignatz’ mouth, before stepping back, taking his stammering for reluctance. “Do you want to stop?”

Ignatz was stiff and aching in his pants. If they stopped now, he wouldn’t be able to bear it. “N-no. No, please. Please keep going.”

“Say ‘no’ and I’ll stop, okay?” Byleth said in the voice she usually reserved for talking to students panicking about a test. After she pretended to be the Goddess, Ignatz very much wanted her to pretend to be his professor again. But, he had to somehow keep from losing it this time around first.

Ignatz nodded and Byleth leaned in close again, placing her hands on his waist. Ignatz could feel her hair against his neck and her breasts push into him as she spoke.

“Okay. What do you want the Goddess to do to you? Punish you for sinning? Reward you for being such a good little boy? Use your seed to create life within Her? Does She take you willingly? Or do you resist?” Ignatz shivered: did Byleth really have such dirty thoughts? Wanting him to have sex with her or paint her naked had been one thing. But these ideas? He felt as if she read the darkest parts of his mind.

He buried his head into Byleth’s neck, ashamed at how aroused her words and the scenes they inspired made him. “Just… use me. Please. I can’t take much more of this.”

Byleth kissed the top of his head and then stepped back. “Strip.”

Ignatz’ clothes quickly fell to the ground. Byleth was still wearing her nightgown, but it left so little to the imagination that Ignatz hardly cared. Besides, her ordered him around while clothed herself was… _something_. Slowly, she walked around him.

“You know I made you perfect, just for me and my pleasure, don’t you, Ignatz?” Byleth paused her walk behind Ignatz. He felt her step closer to him and run her hands across his shoulders. Suddenly, her hands circled around his chest and Byleth pulled Ignatz to her. Once more, he felt her breath on his ear. “Would the Goddess make a mistake?”

Ignatz shook his head.

“Answer me verbally.”

“No.”

“That’s right. Then, why would you doubt your body? Why would you question how gorgeous and how—" Byleth’s hand trailed down his stomach, grabbing at his cock, “—big you are?”

Despite everything, tears prickled in Ignatz’ eyes and he felt overwhelmed, not just with arousal, but with love. Was all this because he let slip his insecurities? In a surprising shift of emotions, Ignatz no longer wanted Byleth to pretend to be the Goddess: he wanted to make love to her as she was, his darling, the dearest of his heart. 

“Byleth, please, s-stop being the Goddess. I want you. Lie down on the bed. Please.”

“You only need to say please once,” Ignatz could hear the smile in her voice. “I want to go back to being the Goddess at some point in the future.” Ignatz wanted that too: those… ideas Byleth mentioned were too hot to forget. But, right now he wanted _her_.

Byleth spread out on the bed. With more control than he thought possible, Ignatz slowly peeled off her nightgown and lowered her panties before lining himself up between her legs and pushing into her.

The writings of the church frequently told how two people could become one flesh. The last two times they made love had been indescribable, but there was a new holiness in this moment: in the way they moved against each other, flesh pressing flesh, Byleth’s forehead against his, her teeth rasping on his lips. Ignatz wrapped his arms around her and they were close, so close to each other. He wished he could get even closer: wished her body could consume his until there was nothing left of him that was not also part of her.

Ignatz felt Byleth’s hand between her legs and he placed his over hers. She let him take over for her, although it wasn’t long before Ignatz felt Byleth tremble. He pulled his hand back. Byleth lowered her face down to the dip of his neck, kissing him softly, before pressing her mouth to his. The kiss was wet, open-mouthed and desperate. Ignatz felt his pulse climb beyond safe levels and his thrusts get shallow and frantic. Byleth’s tongue entered his mouth, not exploring or searching, but claiming his mouth as hers. Penetrating his body at the mouth the way, between her legs, he was taking her own. 

Ignatz felt desperate now, lost completely in Byleth. He fucked her harder than intended considered the tenderness of their lovemaking and let out a guttural cry when he came in her. If he couldn’t melt into her body forever, at least he could leave something of himself behind. 

Ignatz didn’t pull out right away. It felt really nice to stay in her for a moment post-orgasm. Byleth did pull her tongue out of his mouth, resting her head back on her pillow, to study first the place where they were still joined, brushing her hand softly at the connection, and then bringing her hand up to rest on his face. She wiped away a tear on his cheek.

“Whenever you ever feel insecure, let me know. I want to make you feel good about yourself.”

Ignatz shook his head before pressing his lips to her collarbone. “If I told you every time I felt insecure, I think we’d be having sex every other second.”

Byleth’s smile was sad. “I wish you saw yourself the way I saw you.” Ignatz stroked her back wordlessly, before pulling out slowly. The bed was a little stained. Ignatz made a mental note to keep a stack of cloths next to the bed. Byleth didn’t seem to care, though. She cleaned herself off, rolled out of bed and made her way over to her desk to dress for the war meeting.

* * *

They were only a little late to the war meeting. However, seeing as Byleth was the one in charge, everyone noticed her absence and everyone stared as they walked in together. Ignatz moved to nervously take his seat: he hated being late, even if the reason he was late was the person running the meeting.

Ignatz’ desire to melt into the floor only intensified when, before he could move from the door, Byleth took his hand and gave it a little squeeze. Ignatz watched as Lysithea’s eyes widened, Marianne and Hilda giggled at each other, Ashe blushed and fixed his gaze at a beam on the ceiling, and Lorenz looked first scandalized, then, after presumably remembering Byleth had no title and therefore was cleared to date a commoner, nodded slowly at no one in particular. The moment was interrupted by Catherine and Shamir, bursting through the door still wearing their training gear. They looked guilty before realizing no one was watching them.

Byleth was completely unphased by the mix of giggles and pointed looks around her. Everyone was whispering, aside from Shamir and Catherine, who were trying to figure out what was going on, Linhardt who was already sleeping, and Hanneman, who definitely didn’t care about such non-crest-related matters. As soon as she called the meeting to attention, the chatter stopped. While they were all likely to gossip about their professor later, Ignatz could see the respect in everyone’s eyes as she spoke. Ignatz loved how Byleth could command a room, how she looked so confident at the head of the table. It was part of why he had originally compared her to the Goddess, after all: wherever Byleth went, everyone followed. Whenever she spoke, none dared interrupt.

She wore the mantle of leadership well. Ignatz sighed: as gorgeous as she was naked in his arms, she was equally radiant at the head of the war table. His mental list of ways to draw Byleth was getting very long. They would need a lifetime together, if only for him to capture her in every possible pose.

As their first break drew near, Ignatz felt the familiar combination of panic and nerves in his stomach. He wasn’t looking forward to being the center of attention. As expected, as soon as the break began, Ignatz was swarmed by former Golden Deer. Byleth wouldn’t be able to save him either, as she was caught up in a conversation with Annette about something they were debating during the meeting.

Ignatz was thankful only the Golden Deer approached him: having the entire monastery asking questions about his love life might literally cause him to pass out. Still, it was incredibly unnerving being circled, even if it was by his seven oldest friends. How did Byleth keep so calm when they all surrounded her like this before and after battles?

“Things seem to be going well. I am a little offended you didn’t tell me right away. I practically set you two up! You should name one of your children after me.” Claude said in mock indignation.

“The professor’s having a baby?” Raphael looked confused. Ignatz suddenly remembered he forgot to tell Raphael about his relationship.

“No! No, goodness, no.” Ignatz looked at his best friend. “We’re just in a relationship.”

“Okay, well let me know when she does have a baby! I wanna be Uncle Raphael and make sure the baby learns everything it needs to know and grows up big and strong!” Ignatz smiled fondly at his friend’s innocent, if not a little misguided, hope for the future.

“Thanks, Raphael. We’re not planning on having children anytime soon. Claude’s right, though, things are going well.”

“I don’t see a ring on the professor’s finger, so I’d hardly say things are ‘going well.’” Hilda looked at Ignatz as if he personally offended her. 

“Um, we’re not—” Ignatz began.

“Hilda, you must remember marriage does not work the same way for the merchant class as it does for us nobles.” Without turning his head, Ignatz knew exactly who the speaker was. “They are freed from the expectations of duty and can keep up dalliances indefinitely.”

Ignatz met Lorenz’ eyes, frowning. “I’d hardly call what Byleth and I have a ‘dalliance.’”

“That’s sweet. You used the professor’s name.” Leonie piped up. “I tried once, but it was impossible for me to get it out.”

“What do you expect him to do, Leonie? Call her ‘Professor’ in the bedroom?” Claude winked at Ignatz. “Although, that does sound like something you’d be into.”

Lysithea made a face. “Gross. Why are we taking time to discuss this? Have you all forgotten there is a war going on?”

“If you didn’t want to gossip about Ignatz and the professor, why did you come over here?” Hilda asked Lysithea.

“Because I thought we might actually be discussing something useful for once. _Obviously_ I thought wrong.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Marianne said with a smile.

“Thanks, Marianne.” Ignatz returned her smile. Marianne’s face had been lit with a smile more and more lately. Despite the war, Ignatz felt his friend’s joy was something to celebrate.

“Ooh, Marianne!” Hilda interrupted, “We should start thinking about our bridesmaids’ dresses. Do you think the professor cares about colors? I doubt it. I think you would look beautiful in baby blue, Marianne. Maybe something light and flowy. We can match each others' styles, but wear different colors.”

“Hilda, I already told you, we’re not getting married.” Ignatz was indignant now. Hilda ignored him, instead pulling a reluctant Marianne aside to talk about a non-existent wedding. 

“Ugh. I don’t understand the point of spending money on a party that’s over in one day.” Lysithea griped. Leonie nodded in agreement and Lorenz shook his head at his friends’ _obvious_ misunderstanding of the purpose of weddings.

“Please, no more wedding talk. You’re all making me feel overwhelmed.” Ignatz pleaded.

“We’ll leave you alone,” Claude said, motioning for the other Golden Deer to disperse. They obliged, although Ignatz could hear everyone discussing wedding cakes and whether or not the professor would bring a sword to her own wedding. Only Claude remained behind.

“I’ve never seen Teach look happier.” For the first time in his life, Ignatz got the sense that Claude actually meant his words. “I mean, she doesn’t usually look like… anything. But, ever since that night you went off to talk to her, she’s been smiling. It’s so strange to see.”

“I didn’t tell her how I felt then. It actually didn’t happen until yesterday.” Had it only been twenty four hours? Ignatz felt as if a lifetime had passed: a beautiful, rose-colored lifetime.

“Really?” Claude looked surprised. “Then what was with all the sneaking off and midnight walks to the Goddess Tower? Yes, I saw you two, don’t look so surprised. I also like to wander the monastery at night.”

“I kept getting close to confessing and then something would happen, or I’d lose my nerve. But, yesterday,” Ignatz’ face reddened, “I finally found the confidence to tell her how I felt.”

“It seems like she took that confession well. Very well, in fact, considering those bite marks on your neck.”

Goodness, Ignatz hadn’t realized. His hand flew up to raise the clasp of his cloak higher.

Claude laughed. “I’m only messing with you. I’ll bet Teach is really fiery in bed, though.” Ignatz frowned at Claude, who only laughed harder. “You are a surprisingly possessive man. It just seems so unlike you.”

Ignatz’ frown deepened. He didn’t want to be known as someone who was jealous. He just wasn’t fond of the teasing everyone else seemed to love so much.

“Ignatz, it’s fine.” Claude said, sensing Ignatz’ discomfort, “I know you’re not the kind of person to fly into a jealous rage. You two are really in love. And, listen,” Claude leaned in closer, dropping his voice, “I am so happy for you.”

“Thank you,” Ignatz said. He meant it.

“Don’t forget to allow yourself to be happy.” Claude studied Ignatz’ face. Ignatz nodded.

“I won’t.” This one was harder to mean.

But, as Ignatz looked back at Byleth, he realized he was happier than he had ever been in his life. Byleth turned and met his eyes. The light that shone from them was not the light of holy sanctuaries and unreachable stars, but of a cozy hearth and the warmth of a fireplace. She would be his Goddess for the rest of his life, but the love he felt right then was not for something ethereal, but for someone corporeal, someone who grounded him, someone who felt less like heaven and more like home.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has spoilers through the end of VW and references the character deaths that occur around then in game.
> 
> Also, I wanted to let you know that life's gotten busy for me, so it might take me more than a week to finish rewrites and edits on the last chapter (it has been written for a while, but needs polishing). I'm excited to share it with you and will post it as soon as I can! I already know no one minds, but wanted to mention it all the same.

The months that followed were a whirlwind of marching and lovemaking and strategy meetings and learning the shape of Byleth’s body and arrows into enemy heads into blood-soaked fields permeating blood-soaked nightmares which were soothed by warm kisses and cool hands.

Ignatz almost permanently moved into Byleth’s room at the monastery and her tent on the field. Byleth had not understood why he would want to sleep in her room when she stayed up late most nights working out tactics and studying maps of forts. Ignatz explained to her over and over that he loved falling asleep in her bed, surrounded by her scent, knowing she was working only a few feet away. Although he tended to wake with a start whenever Byleth climbed into bed, falling back asleep with her in his arms made everything worth it.

They learned to make love on the battlefield. The ground under Byleth’s tent was often very hard, so it was easier for either Byleth to be on all fours in front of him or for Ignatz to sit and Byleth to straddle his lap. Ignatz preferred the intimacy of the latter, although there was a power rush associated with the former that was intoxicating: to see the woman who commanded him on the battlefield so vulnerably positioned — and for him! — made Ignatz feel more lightheaded than the thought of sex with Byleth usually made him.

And the noises she made… the tent walls were very thin and his lover was not shy with her moans. The darkest part of Ignatz — the part he knew he should repent for, should pray to heal from, but couldn’t bring himself to confess — took sick pleasure in the idea that everyone would hear her moan his name and know she was his: that he alone could make her scream with every thrust and come with a cry.

There was a desperation in their intimacy before a battle that often made Ignatz’ eyes wet with tears he did not want to spill in his beautiful, fierce lover’s presence. He had still never seen Byleth cry, but he could tell in the way she held his face while she was on top of him — fucking him relentlessly, passionately kissing his mouth, jawline, and neck, running her hands through his hair, mouth coming to rest on his pulse point as he came in her — that she felt her own intensity in the dark hours before a battle. Even if she didn’t feel the fear so keenly the way Ignatz did.

Before each battle, their bodies painted the bedroll in blacks, velvet purples, and deep, deep blues. After each battle, however, the sex was still desperate, but colored with the vermillion of adrenaline coursing through their veins, the carmine and indigo of fresh injuries lurking beneath sweat-drenched skin, and the verdant green of the life they were allowed to keep living, if only for a little longer. Every time he entered Byleth, with his fingers or tongue or cock, the colors ran together and the world seemed almost unbearably bright until he came, hard and deep, in the woman he worshipped and then all the hues of the world could only be found in Byleth’s eyes. 

As the colors swirled and days passed, Ignatz lost touch on how to feel about… everything, really. The war felt overwhelming: his love for Byleth even more so. There were small fears that smudged into Ignatz’ life as well: what he would say to his parents about his future, if Byleth would still want him after the war, what Fódlan would look like, for his friends, nobleman and commoner alike, for his mom, dad, and brother, when this was all over. Whatever the outcome would be.

Then it was over: Enbarr fell and Edelgard with it. Ignatz hadn’t been sure what to expect from Byleth, during or after the battle, but he certainly did not expect her to cut Edelgard down mid-sentence, nor did he expect the way she did nothing, didn’t cry, didn’t speak, just moved stiffly through her usual post-battle routine in the hours that followed. There had been times recently when Ignatz forgot about the Goddess when he was with his lover. In the hours after Edelgard’s death, Byleth seemed more like the Goddess of the stories read in church about the damnation of sinners and the sundering of the world at the end of all days, when humanity would be no more, and Ignatz felt adrift at sea when he was with her.

As he held her in the aftermath of Enbarr, Ignatz wish fervently his beloved would be less otherworldly. Save for the beating of Byleth’s heart, she didn’t feel human in his arms. Ignatz nuzzled into her neck. Byleth didn’t react.

“Do you need to talk about what happened?” Ignatz carefully refrained from saying Edelgard’s name.

Byleth shook her head. She reminded him a bit of how she was in her first days at the monastery. Eyes wide, expression blank, even as Ignatz stroked her hair. The war, Ignatz supposed, was over, but—

Byleth lifted her head: someone was outside their tent.

“Uh, Teach?” Claude. “Hope your post-battle sex is done, because we’ve got a note. It’s from Hubert.”

* * *

Ignatz had to admit Shambhala was beautiful, even if their reasons for descending into the darkness were terrifying.

Byleth kept him near her this battle. Usually she preferred to be on the front line, on foot, Ignatz back with the other archers. But, for whatever reason, she wanted him by her side in Shambhala. Ignatz hoped it was because his presence comforted her.

Byleth had come back a little after Enbarr, but remained reserved. They kissed before he climbed onto his horse, but her lips had been cold. None of that could matter now—he was her soldier, and he would obey her every command and strike down anyone on the battlefield who stood in her way. As they fought through the inhuman army, Ignatz saw every slash of The Sword of the Creator and every beautiful, unnatural wall in the glowing underground city.

The only thing he failed to see was the dark mage.

Byleth didn’t go down, but she did falter and cry and clutch at her chest.

Ignatz didn’t see red, but he did see the space between the mage’s eyes as he drew back his bowstring.

Ignatz didn’t look at Byleth until the next five enemies fell and he finally heard her at his side.

“I’m okay, my love. I’m okay.”

Ignatz risked pausing to look down at her; she had never used a term of affection for him before. For the first time in a month, she smiled at him through her pain.

Later, in the tent, they fell on each other. They had made love since Enbarr, but the enthusiasm with which Byleth kissed his face and ran her hands through his hair made Ignatz want to cry.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. Ignatz hadn’t wanted to push her. He knew the war was taking an unfathomable mental toll on all of them, but her apology caused the dam he was using to hold everything back to break.

“Why did you shut down?” Ignatz was surprised by how fresh the anger and sadness felt.

Byleth chose her words carefully. “It was easier for me to go back to not feeling.”

Ignatz nodded, although he didn’t fully understand.

“But,” Byleth smiled weakly, “it wasn’t possible. I still felt. I still imagined what would have happened if it were you, Claude, or Hilda, and not Edelgard and Hubert.” She met Ignatz’ eyes. “I am so sorry. I never want to be like that again.”

Ignatz dropped his arms and looked away. “What changed in Shambhala?”

“I was no longer able to hide how I felt.”

“Is that why you called me your ‘love?’”

“I should have been calling you ‘my love’ this whole time.” Byleth sounded uncharacteristically shy.

Ignatz allowed Byleth to pull him close, although she winced when his head hit her chest. “Marianne helped with the worst of the burn, but it still hurts.”

Ignatz turned her around and placed his head against her back. “Please don’t close me out again.”

For a moment they rested against each other. Ignatz could feel the rise and fall of Byleth’s chest, the soft drum of her heart. When Byleth spoke, her voice was soft.

“It’s impossible for me to shut my heart to you. I gave it to you to hold long ago.” Ignatz took off his glasses so he could affectionately nestle against her back. Byleth reached a hand over her shoulder to stroke his hair. “As soon as the war ends, I’m ready.”

Ignatz felt his heart speed up. His body grew warm. “Ready for what?”

“To make that promise you talked about. To spend the rest of our lives together.”

Ignatz wanted to ask Byleth to clarify, to make sure she meant marriage and not some pact just to hang out forever, but as Byleth pushed back against him, he heard her gasp.

“Ignatz, did the idea of marrying me make you _hard_?” She turned to face him.

Ignatz moved away from Byleth and looked at the ground. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean for it to happen. I really like the idea of you being my wife.”

“That’s so cute.” He could hear the smile in Byleth’s voice.

Ignatz hardly thought it was cute. He frowned and looked up at her. “Also, you were sitting in my lap for a while.” 

Byleth tugged Ignatz close again. “Oh, so it’s my fault.” Her tone was playful. “Want to do something about it?”

Ignatz couldn’t imagine a world where he would say ‘no.’ But, he remember Byleth’s injury. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Just don’t touch my chest.” Ignatz nodded. Byleth pulled off her top, revealing the burn mark. Seeing Byleth hurt made the ghost of a pain appear in his own chest. 

Byleth finished undressing herself and then slowly began to take off Ignatz’ clothes.

Ignatz had assumed it would be easy to not touch Byleth, but as she lifted his shirt over his head and her breasts hung in his face, he fought the urge to run his hands over them or take her nipple in his mouth.

As soon as Ignatz was undressed, Byleth once more positioned herself in his lap. With the same agonizingly slow pace, she began to grind against him.

“You are so hard. Does the idea of being mine forever really turn you on this much?” Byleth sounded genuinely curious, but Ignatz was honestly not sure how to answer her. It wasn’t as if he got off thinking about marriage. Maybe it was the idea of belonging to Byleth that aroused him. Or her belonging to him. Both sounded equally enticing.

Byleth pulled back, positioning herself in front of him on all fours.

“I thought about riding you, but I think I need to be fucked hard right now.” Byleth looked back at him. Despite all their practice in the bedroom, Ignatz was not quite used to the lewd words that fell so easily from Byleth’s lips. He blushed and stammered in response, but eagerly moved to his knees behind Byleth all the same.

“What do you think, gorgeous? Can you fuck me like I need to be fucked?” ”

Even as his blush deepened, Ignatz knew taking Byleth hard would not be an issue: their sex since Enbarr had been lackluster and he needed her body as desperately as she needed his.

He gripped her hips and pushed into her, slowly at first, relishing in the moan she always made when he first entered her body, and then picked up his pace, gripping Byleth’s hips to keep himself steady. Byleth pushed back against him too, her ass smacking his stomach.

“Let me do it,” Ignatz admonished.

Byleth turned her head back to look into Ignatz’ eyes. “You’ll need to pound me harder, then.”

In response, Ignatz pushed all the way inside of her, holding still while Byleth squirmed around him. He held her hips in place, preventing her from moving off.

“Okay, you be in charge.” Byleth panted.

Ignatz smiled, before setting his face and, determined to give his lover what she wanted, tried to thrust into her forcefully. He must have done something correctly, because he heard Byleth moan. He reached one hand down to rub her clit and felt her shake.

Ignatz loved the visual of Byleth trembling below him, mouth spilling profanities and formless sounds of pleasure that crescendoed with his pace. Even if Byleth hadn’t asked for him to use her so roughly, Ignatz was fast reaching the point of not being able to stop himself.

Byleth let out her loudest moan yet when he came in her. For a second, his hand faltered against her, but he continued drawing circles around her clit as soon as he recovered. He know Byleth loved coming with him still inside of her.

It didn’t take long; he felt her tighten and release around his softening cock. He pulled his hand back and pulled out before collapsing to the floor, boneless. Byleth rested her head upon his chest.

“Your heart’s pounding.”

“Today’s been a bit overwhelming,” Ignatz panted. “To say the least.”

Byleth sat up and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “As soon as the war is over, we’ll take time to rest. Just the two of us.” 

Ignatz felt himself drifting off to sleep. As soon as the war was over, he and Byleth could begin their life together. As soon as the war was over…

And then Claude’s arrow split the air and Nemesis fell against The Sword of the Creator and Ignatz didn’t believe he was seeing reality. When he saw Byleth and Claude clasp hands, he still looked around for an enemy he must be missing, a plot they had not foreseen. But his battalion was cheering and he was hugging Lysithea, of all people, and pulling Cyril in to join their embrace. As his head spun, Ignatz realized Byleth was kissing him and holding him close and whispering softly and so sweetly, “I love you.”

After that, it was as if Byleth knew no other words. She shouted them as they, hand in hand, walked back to camp. “I love yous” rasped in Ignatz’ ear as he lay in the medical tent and Linhardt saw to his cuts and bruises. Byleth moaned them against the top of his head as they fucked, hard and desperate, despite the aches in their bodies and the exhaustion in their souls, until, late, late in the night. She only spoke another phrase when they, exhausted and broken and empty despite the victory, fell onto the bedroll, still joined together at the hip and she whispered against Ignatz’ damp hair,

“Please, let me be yours forever.”

How could Ignatz deny her such a request? 

But in the morning there were reports to write and meetings to attend and more wounds than they could count and it seemed to Ignatz that, despite Nemesis’ defeat, the war was far from over and he and Byleth’s future together seemed a fanciful luxury neither could afford. 

* * *

The reality that their six year struggle was finished didn’t set in until Ignatz found himself resting at a camp near the border into Gloucester territory, accompanied by Lorenz and Raphael. For the first time in a very long time, they were all going home. Nearly two months had passed since Nemesis’ defeat. The days had been surreal, involving marching back to the monastery and tending to wounds and meeting after meeting about what was to be done.

Byleth was so occupied with discussing the future of Fódlan that she hadn’t had time to discuss the future of her and Ignatz. Ignatz, on the other hand, had thought of little else: not being noble or really useful at rebuilding a society, Ignatz was ignored in most of the discussions, despite Byleth's attempts to promote his ideas. To pass the time, he spoke with Seteth about helping fix the aesthetic aspects of the monastery. Mostly, Ignatz occupied himself with working on a drawing that was proving to be surprisingly challenging, but very dear to his heart.

“And my third act as the new Lord Gloucester—” Lorenz was saying to no one in particular, Raphael being singularly occupied with finishing the last scraps of dinner and Ignatz completely absorbed in his new project. Lorenz had been speaking for a while and he finally caught on that no one was listening. “Ignatz, this concerns you, being that your family lives in Gloucester territory.”

“Oh, sorry.” Ignatz really didn’t want to leave his drawing, particularly not to hear Lorenz talk about policy, but he didn’t want to be impolite. After all, part of Lorenz’ policies seemed to be aimed at helping the merchant families and he wanted to show Lorenz he appreciated his ideas.

“It is fine, I know you have not been trained to understand such matters the way I have as a noble.” Ignatz winced: Lorenz had gotten better over the years, but he still had a tendency to be pompous. “We shall change the subject: have you given more thought to my offer to work for me, either as an artist or as a knight?”

“Um—”

“What are you working on now? I most enjoyed your piece hanging in the hall of the monastery.”

“I’m—”

Before Ignatz could answer either question, Lorenz caught a glimpse of the sketch. “A ring? Strange subject matter for a drawing, but I suppose the best art is often unconventional.”

Ignatz sighed: it was time to tell someone. He had meant to talk to Raphael about it, but it seemed rude to leave Lorenz out of the conversation when the three of them were traveling home together.

“It’s for Byleth. I’m… hoping to ask her to marry me.”

Lorenz’ mouth dropped open, but before he could speak, Raphael chimed in.

“That’s wonderful, buddy!”

Lorenz recovered from his shock and looked at Ignatz with some skepticism: this was why Ignatz hadn’t wanted to tell him.

“Well, that is wonderful. Please, if she accepts, let me offer my services at helping you get ready to rule Fódlan at her side. It will be a difficult task, but one that I, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, was born to do! Why, I know all about etiquette and foreign policy and —”

As Lorenz droned on, Ignatz felt a familiar tightness in his chest, one that had been growing since, a month ago now, Byleth was suggested as the new queen of a United Fódlan. He had assumed Claude would take the role of ruler of Fódlan, but Claude had his own responsibilities and Ignatz had to admit Byleth would make a wonderful queen. It was just… well, he’d be the world’s worst king. Everyone teased him about it, when Byleth wasn’t around. After Shambhala, Byleth had said she was ready to get engaged, but that was before she knew she would be queen.

With the question of their future together still up in the air, it was with some degree of trepidation that Ignatz left Garreg Mach for his parents’ house. The bulk of the planning being over, everyone left for their childhood homes to spend time with loved ones before rebuilding began in earnest. Lorenz and Raphael both lived within a few hours ride of Ignatz and had invited him to journey with them, the roads still being dangerous in post-war Fódlan.

Ignatz was loath to leave Byleth, both because the idea of spending one night, much less a month, without her sounded terrible and because they still had so much to discuss. But, Byleth urged him to go home: Ignatz knew Byleth missed her own father terribly and didn’t want Ignatz to feel he had to give up his parents for her. Ignatz had obliged and taken off for home — well, his old home — even if leaving Byleth meant he still wasn’t sure if she wanted to marry him now that she would be queen.

“All that being said,” Lorenz was still going on about the many noble virtues he would – with great difficulty – impart onto Ignatz, “you have already mastered one skill beyond anything I will ever achieve: that ring you designed is perfect for the professor.”

Ignatz was shaken from his anxious musings. “Do you think so? I’m still working on it. I wasn’t sure about the positioning of the stones…”

Lorenz moved closer to Ignatz and gestured to the sketch. “May I?” Ignatz nodded and handed it over to Lorenz, who studied it carefully before replying. “As I said, it is perfect. Simple, yet elegant. Our professor is a quiet woman and the ring speaks to that. However, it has a class and beauty befitting a queen.” Lorenz handed the sketch back to Ignatz, a small smile playing over the nobleman’s face. “I believe she will wear it with pride.”

Ignatz returned the smile. “Thanks, Lorenz.”

Raphael moved behind Lorenz and Ignatz to study the sketch. He was frowning.

“That’s a very nice sketch, Ig, but shouldn’t the ring be bigger?”

“No, no,” Lorenz waved his hand at Raphael, “the woman must wear the ring, not the other way around.”

“That makes sense.” Raphael scratched his head. “I’ve never seen a ring wearing a woman, but it sounds terrifying! I wouldn’t want that to happen to the professor.” 

Ignatz looked at his friends. “Thank you both. I’m so nervous about asking Byleth to marry me, especially now that she’s going to be queen!”

“You’re gonna do great, buddy!” Raphael said, surprising Ignatz by picking him up and pulling him into a hug. “Just promise me I’ll be your best man?”

“Of course,” Ignatz laughed, struggling to get down. “I wouldn’t want the role to go to anyone else. You’ll be in the wedding party too, Lorenz.” Ignatz didn’t want the other man to feel left out. 

Lorenz nodded. “Do let me help with your guest list. There are so many lords and ladies you and the professor have yet to be introduced to who will make excellent allies in the service of the queen. Anyone who is anyone in Fódlan will be at your wedding! It will be the event of the season!”

“Lorenz, I would prefer a small wedding, but if Byleth says yes, I will let you invite anyone you want.”

“She will say yes.”

For the moment, laughing around the fire with his friends, Ignatz felt light. Maybe Lorenz was right: maybe she would say yes and she would wear his ring for all of her days. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I were to list out my top ten gripes about FE3H, the engagement rings are probably the pettiest thing on that list. I apologize if you like them, but if you're like me, please join me in imagining Ignatz custom designs a pretty ring instead.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Special thanks to those who commented! 
> 
> Also, I totally did not mean to post this on the 1 year 3h anniversary. If I had told myself a year ago I'd be posting the last chapter of a romantic fanfiction about Ignatz — of all characters! — during a world-wide pandemic, I'd be like... hm. okay. what the actual fuck? Anyway, thanks again for reading! See you around the fandom.

It was past sundown when Ignatz approached his family home. They separated from Raphael around midday, Ignatz sending Raphael off with greetings to Maya and Raphael’s grandfather. He and Lorenz journeyed into Gloucester territory together and he parted from Lorenz only an hour before reaching his parents’ house. Ignatz felt a pang when Lorenz left. As much as the other man could frustrate Ignatz with his pompousness, Ignatz was not sure if the relationship between Lorenz and his father — which had been strained during the war — was healthy at the moment. Ignatz felt grateful for his own parents: as domineering as they could be, they loved him and the war hadn't changed that.

That love was quickly made apparent by the light still burning in the window. When Ignatz had written to his parents to discuss coming home, he specifically instructed his mother not to wait up for him. She clearly ignored his request. Still, when she opened the door, Ignatz grabbed her enthusiastically for a hug.

“Mom!”

Ignatz’ mom surveyed him. “My sweet boy, grown into quite the knight. We are so proud of you!” Ignatz’ stomach tightened, but he followed his mother into the house without saying a word. Should he tell her now about his desire to be a painter?

“Your father already went to sleep.” Of course he did. Still, with his friends’ parents all either dead, on the wrong side of the war, or the bane of their children’s existence, Ignatz realized grimly that perhaps he should be grateful his father’s only crime was being aloof. Talking to his parents one at a time might be easier anyway. Ignatz put down his pack and helped his mother make them both tea. Throughout it all, he did not contradict his mother whenever she mentioned her plans for his future.

All the same, it was impossible for Ignatz to stay stressed while talking with his mom; it was equally impossible to tell her about his future plans. Ignatz steered clear of conversations that might lead to talk of knighthood, instead delighting in the simple pleasure of hearing his mother tell him about the flowers in their garden and the new cleric at their local church, with whom she didn’t quite see eye to eye.

It was past midnight when he bid his mother goodnight and made his way to his childhood bedroom. Opening the door felt like stepping back in time: the room had barely changed since the day he left for the monastery, save for a few extra drawings and trinkets he had left on visits home during the war.

Ignatz picked up a sketchbook dating from just before he left for the monastery and opened it to an arbitrary page. As quickly as he opened it, he closed it again, coloring slightly at seeing just how _bad_ his old art was. He debated throwing it in the fire, but decided against it. He placed the sketchbook back where he found it and pulled a book from his shelf instead.

Ignatz sank onto his bed, reading through stories about the Goddess. The book’s margins had been filled in with his own childish depictions of each scene. These drawings were so old, Ignatz felt no embarrassment from them, only fondness for the ways that — despite how much his world had changed in the past few years — the things that brought him joy remained consistent.

Safe in his old bedroom, to was easy to forget the war ever happened. It was easy to forget his fears about telling his parents about his desired to be an artist. It was easy to forget Byleth was to be Queen of Fódlan. And so, surrounded by old memories of simpler days, Ignatz slept.

In the morning, Ignatz' nerves remained far from his mind as he walked confidently into town. He needed to commission a smith to start on the ring and wanted to use his parents’ merchant contacts to order the gems. It was a crisp morning, early in Wyvern Moon, and Ignatz marveled at the vibrant reds and oranges of the leaves crowning each tree. The only sadness he felt during the walk was that Byleth was not at his side.

Post war, Byleth would pause her work each afternoon and walk with Ignatz around the monastery grounds. Ignatz had assumed the monastery would grow quieter after the war; but each new day brought with it a gaggle of merchants with goods to sell, new clerics wanting to be sworn in by the young Archbishop, and parades of pilgrims to see the holy sanctuary and the woman who had ended the war and taken down Nemesis.

On their walks, however, it was as if Byleth couldn’t see the legions of worshippers here for her; she only had eyes for Ignatz. She liked to steer their path away from the center of the monastery, into the forest or the field where he once painted her. There, they would walk quietly, enjoying the sounds of birds, the colors of the changing trees, and the warmth of each other’s bodies. When Ignatz paused too long to stare at a leaf upon the ground, Byleth brought him back to reality with a kiss. 

Although he preferred walking in the forest, Ignatz couldn’t help but notice the way people stared at Byleth during the beginning of the walk through the monastery grounds. He couldn’t help but think to himself with some degree of pleasure: _the Archbishop is my lover._ He couldn’t help but enjoy it when Byleth wore her vestments—

“You’re going to get it dirty,” Byleth said as they kissed against the wall outside the sanctuary. “I need to wear this again tomorrow for a sermon.” Ignatz bit her lower lip, tugging at her skirts. “What if someone sees?” All the same, she pulled up her robe and leaned harder against the stone of the church, using the wall to help her balance as Ignatz pulled her legs up and around his waist. They sighed in unison as he guided himself into her and Byleth stifled her moans in his neck as, not a few meters from where they fucked, worshippers of Sothis filed out of the church, excited after hearing the Archbishop speak. But, not nearly as excited as Ignatz had been—

“The band should be ready in a week.”

“I'm sorry?” Relishing in his memories, Ignatz barely realized his walk to town had ended and he was standing outside the silversmith.

“I said,” The smith smiled at him, mistaking his glazed over expression for nerves at ordering what was clearly an engagement ring, “Come back for the band in a week.”

Ignatz nodded. One week. This was it: no more daydreams. His ring order was in and now the only task he had left was to tell his parents about his art.

Except… he couldn’t. During dinner that night with his family, Ignatz said nothing. And so went the next dinner, and the one after that, and the one after that. Ignatz rehearsed the words over and over in his head, but, when faced with his parents in person, they didn’t seem to want to come out. Night after night, Ignatz listened to his parents go on about how proud they were of their knight son and how surely a noble house would hire him and he would nod tiredly, but never contradict them.

Ignatz hadn’t really set a timeline for how long he planned to stay with his parents. Raphael and Lorenz weren’t going back to the monastery anytime soon, so he could leave whenever he wished. It seemed reasonable to leave when the ring was finished. But, by the time the gems he ordered arrived and the smith fitted them to the completed band, Ignatz still had not told his parents about his desires to become a painter.

After picking up the ring, Ignatz marveled at it. He was usually the harshest critic of his own work, but he had to admit it was lovely. He was also proud of how he had figured out Byleth’s ring size: under the guise of experimenting with sculpting in order to better restore the monastery, he had made a plaster cast of Byleth’s hand. Ignatz slid the ring into a wooden box he decorated himself and started the short journey from town to his parents’ house.

Back in his room, Ignatz pulled out the ring again. Would Byleth accept it? His mind kept flipping on the matter. On one hand, Ignatz had no doubt in his mind that Byleth loved him. On the other, now that she was to be queen, shouldn’t a more suitable partner be found? Ignatz thought back to that sunny afternoon when he had confessed his love to Byleth. She had looked so happy. Ignatz only hoped she looked that happy when he proposed. Even if she turned him down, there would be the small consolation prize that at least he had had the courage to pursue his desires.

Courage… as soon as he had first entered his childhood bedroom, Ignatz felt as if he were seventeen again. His parents treated him as if he were even younger.

But, he wasn’t the same as he had been at seventeen. He wasn’t even the same as he had been nearly a year ago, excited to fetch Lorenz and head to the monastery on nothing more than the faith that his friends would be there waiting. That Byleth would be there waiting.

The bell chimed for dinner and Ignatz set his mouth in a determined line: confronting his parents would be nothing after leading a battalion against an army from hell.

“Mom, Dad?” His voice shook a little as he regarded his parents. His brother was out on a job and would be home later. Ignatz took a deep breath and continued, more confident now, “I really appreciate you paying for me to attend Garreg Mach. The academy changed my life.”

Ignatz’ mom smiled nervously, clearly sensing he had something planned to say, but his dad interrupted.

“That school cost me an arm and a leg. I don’t care if it changed your life: you’d better get a job out of it.”

Ignatz met his father’s eyes, gaze sure now. “I have. Gotten a job because of my time at the academy, I mean.”

Ignatz’ mom gasped, “Sweetie, you didn’t tell us! How long have you been keeping this a secret?”

“The whole time I’ve been home.”

“But, why?” Ignatz’ mom looked sad. “I know you’re grown up now, but we’re your parents, you can tell us anything.”

“The thing is, I haven’t been hired as a knight, I’ve been hired as an artist to help restore the church. And, after that, I intend to keep working as an artist.” He could see the scowl forming on his father’s face, but he continued all the same. “And, I don’t want to justify to you two that I’m a good artist, or that I’ll make a lot of money, because I am not sure if either of those things are true. But, I promise you that I’ll be happy and that I’ve never wanted to hurt you.”

The silence was long. The maid wandered in to set down dinner, but Ignatz’ father waved her out.

“I can leave, if you want,” Ignatz said, without any hesitation in his voice. He wanted to help his family, to take care of his parents in their old age, but that couldn’t come at the cost of his own happiness. Ignatz stood, but his father held out his hand, gesturing at Ignatz.

“Are you any good?”

“Shh, dear, he said he didn’t want to justify his decision to us.”

All the same, Ignatz pulled out his sketchbook and handed it across the table to his dad.

“I’ve been told I am,” he said, not sure if he should allow himself to smile yet.

It was a lovely moment, Ignatz’ parents opening his sketchbook, tense, but not upset. Ignatz felt oddly calm, until he suddenly remember that about half the sketches in this particular book were of a very naked Byleth.

Quickly, he ran around the table and grabbed the sketchbook out of his father’s hands.

“I am so sorry, let me get another one. These are my… new sketches. They’re not any good. I’m still working on it.”

“I thought you said you were good?” Ignatz’ father looked confused and annoyed at having something snatched from him.

“Please, Ignatz, let us see it,” His mother said. Oh, his sweet, Goddess-fearing mother, who made sure he prayed every night and went to church each week. There was no way he could let her see the book.

Sensing his parents’ unease and not wanted to lose their tenuous approval, Ignatz opened it and flipped through to find appropriate pieces. There was Leonie jabbing her spear (she had requested a sketch for training purposes). He turned the page to show his parents.

His mother “ooh-d” approvingly. His father said nothing. Ignatz took the book back and flipped more, finding a mockup he was working on for a new prayer room in the monastery and turned that around to show his mom and dad. He presented more and more sketches, until the only things left unshown were Byleth. Ignatz had meant to write to them about his relationship, but with the war and the… actually, he had no excuses: Ignatz had simply not wanted to write to them.

Ignatz’ mom was smiling now. His dad’s expression was still hard to read but, slowly, he looked at Ignatz.

“Do what you love, son.”

Ignatz beamed, trying hard not to cry (his father may have approved of his artwork, but he wasn’t sure how he would feel about crying. Yet another reason Ignatz was thankful for his monastery friends: no one ever made him feel bad for expressing his emotions).

“What’s going on here?” Ignatz’ brother stood in the doorway. Ignatz started, and the sketchbook fell, fluttering open to a page of Byleth. Thankfully it was just her sleeping, barely any skin exposed.

Ignatz quickly grabbed the sketchbook, but not before his brother saw the page.

“Ignatz is going to be an artist,” His dad said.

“Okay.” His brother shrugged and then turned to address Ignatz. “Who’s the woman, though?”

“The woman?”

“Ignatz had a picture of a hot lady sleeping in his sketchbook. I just wanted to know if he made her up or if she was real.”

“I want to see the picture.” His mother chimed in.

Ignatz’ response was a little too quick. “No! I mean… it’s private?” Then, as he surveyed the confused looks on his family’s faces, he realized he was being silly for not telling them. “She’s my—” he searched for a word that wouldn’t offend his parents, “—we’re together. Romantically.”

“Oh!” His mother looked so excited. “Can I see her picture?”

Ignatz flipped through the book, finding a few of Byleth’s face. “Um, here?”

The Victor family crowded around the page.

“She’s beautiful!”

“Good for you, son.”

“Isn’t that the acting archbishop?”

Ignatz stared at his brother. “How did you know that?”

His brother shrugged again. “There are a few sketches – worse than yours, of course – of her around the Alliance, heralding her as the Hero of Fódlan. Wait. Are you really dating the archbishop? That sketch I saw had her whole body in it: she’s really curvy. Why is she dating you?”

Ignatz blushed. “She’s not going to be the archbishop much longer. Um, it seems likely they’ll make her the queen?” He chose to ignore his brother’s second question.

The cacophony in the room grew.

“You should have told us!”

“Will you be the king?”

“Why is she dating you?”

Ignatz sighed. “Look, I don’t know the answer to any of your questions! I haven’t asked her to marry me yet. I’ll… let you all know if she says yes? For the record, I don’t want to be the king, but I do want to be with her. Her name is Byleth. And, yes, she does seem to love me. I don’t know why.”

“You’re a catch, sweetie.”

“Women love Victor men.”

“Does she know you have a richer, taller, older brother?”

* * *

As the sun rose the next morning, Ignatz realized he didn’t want to wait a second longer to propose to Byleth. He packed, quickly, tucking the ring safely in an inner pocket of his traveling cloak. His mother protested his leaving, but Ignatz promised to return soon, hopefully with a fiancée in tow. He pulled his parents and brother in for one final hug, readied his horse at the family’s stable, and rode for the monastery.

Ignatz tried to convince himself it made sense to ride so fast, so long as his horse was okay. After all, the roads were still dangerous and he was traveling alone. In reality, however, it was all so he could reach Byleth faster. The bed had felt so empty without her. Food had tasted blander, colors had been muted.

When the sun set, Ignatz didn’t see any point in camping. The road was smooth from here on out, well-trod by the Alliance army, and if he rode all night, he could make it to the monastery by dawn.

Ignatz made better time than he expected, arriving at the front gates with the changing of the guard, a few hours before sunrise. As he pulled in, he heard a familiar voice.

“Greetings, Ignatz! Nothing to report!”

He smiled fondly at the gatekeeper he, his friends, and Byleth all enjoyed talking to.

“Hello! Is the stablemaster awake yet? I need to feed and clean my horse.”

“I think so!” The gatekeeper replied cheerily. Ignatz took off quickly. He had a new plan and it involved getting ready and meeting Byleth before sunrise. “Have a nice morning!” The gatekeeper called after him, his voice echoing through the empty courtyard.

“You too!”

With his horse scrubbed down, happily munching on hay, Ignatz made his way to his old dorm room, happy Byleth’s room didn’t have space for his clothes so he could change before they met. Ignatz regarded himself in the mirror: he looked a mess and probably smelled like horse, but he didn’t have a lot of time to get ready, so he settled for changing clothes, smoothing down his hair, and nervously cleaning his glasses, before writing a quick note to Byleth.

_Meet me in the meadow where I first painted you – I._

As soon as he wrote it, he felt silly for signing just his first initial. What was his deal? Thankfully, Byleth had always seemed to love the things he found embarrassing about himself. Quietly, Ignatz made his way to Byleth’s room. He could hear her stirring inside: with the sky beginning to pinken in the east and the cold, clear predawn air warming, Ignatz hoped she would meet him before dawn truly broke. He wanted his proposal to be as beautiful as Byleth herself. Taking a deep breath, he slid the note under her door and took off for the field.

Once he arrived, Ignatz started feeling silly again. He should have waited for her. They could have walked here together. Instead, he had run, getting all dirty again… and in the distance, there she was. Ignatz ducked behind a tree, feeling sillier still. Why didn’t he want Byleth to see him? Why could he feel his heartbeat in his head? Could his hands stop shaking enough to hold the ring? What if—

“Ignatz!” Byleth was not so shy. As soon as she spotted him, she ran to Ignatz, wrapping her arms around his back, pressing her mouth to his.

A few minutes passed before they broke apart.

“Why didn’t you just come into my room?” Byleth asked, but there was a knowing tone in her voice, a glint in her eyes. A smile played at her lips.

In her eyes, Ignatz could already see her answer to his unasked question. Still, he wanted to do it right, wanted Byleth to know how completely his heart was hers. Ignatz grabbed the ring box out of his pocket, sinking to one knee. Byleth’s smile grew and Ignatz was surprised to see her eyes were glistening. He had never seen her cry before.

“Byleth, years ago, I realized that, because of your kindness, your grace, your beauty, the way you made me feel like I was more than I am, your unwavering faith in me, even when I had no faith in myself, I realized that you were the Goddess I had always been worshipping. These last few months with you have been heavenly, and along the way, you’ve become more than my Goddess: you’ve become my partner, my best friend, and the only person I ever want by my side. Will you marry me?”

Byleth nodded and behind her the sun rose in vivid yellows, purples, and reds.

Ignatz stood, sliding the ring onto her finger. Byleth studied it, marveling, before pulling Ignatz close. The tears that had been gathering in her eyes spilled, mingling on Ignatz’ cheek with a river of his own tears. Despite the sun, a light rain had begun to fall. Ignatz pulled Byleth under a large tree, sheltering her from the warm rain blowing in on a gentle wind.

“I promise to do whatever it takes to be a respectable man, worthy of your partnership. I promise to love you, with all of my soul,” He murmured into her hair.

At his words, Byleth pressed a kiss to his cheek before looking at the ring again and whispered something.

“I’m sorry, my love?” Ignatz looked at her quizzically.

“Byleth Eisner Victor.” Byleth repeated herself, only a little louder this time. Ignatz blushed. “Nobles need three names, right? Those will be mine.” Happily, Byleth pulled him in for another embrace, kissing the tears from his cheeks.

“I’ll try to be useful… when you’re queen.” Ignatz stammered out, his elation fading when the reality of his fiancée being the queen set in.

Byleth wiggled out of Ignatz’ arms, studying him.

“Were you afraid I wouldn’t want you now that I’m going to be queen?”

“A little. I really don’t want to be king.” Ignatz confessed bashfully.

Byleth took his hands, meeting his eyes. “Ignatz. I won’t need a king, I’ll need a consort.”

“What are his jobs?”

Byleth thought for a moment. “Well, I’ll want a new portrait often. So, he can paint that.” She held out one finger, as if ticking off a list. Ignatz smiled shyly. “And, he’ll need to travel with me to new lands and capture their beauty too. I’ll be working directly with the church, so someone who understands religion well would be useful to have around. Finally, as queen, I would imagine I’ll be under a lot of stress and pressure. His services in the bedroom will be most appreciated.” She winked at Ignatz. “I believe these are all tasks you are perfectly suited for.”

“I’ll do my best, my queen,” Ignatz said, bowing playfully.

“I’m your queen now? I thought I was your goddess.”

“Actually,” Ignatz felt his face color. He wondered if Byleth would ever stop having that effect on him, “these days, I prefer to think of you as my best friend. My soon-to-be-wife.”

Byleth pulled him in for another kiss, before breaking apart once more. Ignatz made to pull her to him again, ready to kiss and kiss and kiss and never, ever stop, but she held back.

“I just thought of one more thing my husband should do.”

“Oh?”

“Last time you carried me, I was unconscious. I was sad to miss it. Can you… carry me again?”

Ignatz beamed, sweeping Byleth into his arms.

“Of course, Goddess.”

“Queen. Fiancée.”

“Of course, my love.”

And as the rain ceased around them, Ignatz pulled Byleth up to his lips, relishing in their softness, in the pressure of her mouth on his, and in the feeling of her in his arms. Byleth was not a goddess. She was better than a goddess: she was so very real and so very his and so she would remain until the end of their days.


End file.
